Chapter 570: Rasma!

Chapter 570: Rathma!

"We’re here, babies. Come on, let’s get everything unloaded."

Mason brought the hearse to a halt. Seated inside, Mina, Lunt, and Chris all stood up and began hauling boxes of bread, milk, and various jams from the rear compartment.

"Oh, look at you all. It seems you’ve truly grown into proper adults. I’m so very proud of you!"

Basking in the praise of their elder, the young girls and boys threw themselves into the heavy lifting with renewed vigor.

Having provided the necessary moral support, Mason stepped aside, slipped a hand into his pocket for a cigarette, lit it, and happily commenced slacking off.

"Mr. Mason, shirking your duties once again?"

Startled by the voice, Mason gave a sharp flinch and spun around. Where the church's front flowerbed once lay, the newly arrived priest had transformed the patch into a vegetable garden.

"Priest Rathma, you nearly frightened me right into a coffin just now."

"I imagine you selected your preferred casket long ago, so it hardly would have caught you unprepared."

"I wouldn't choose a coffin at all; I’ve picked an urn. I haven't the slightest desire to lie in a casket after I pass."

Rathma smiled faintly. "So, is this the sorrow of the grown man? Even when staring death in the face, one only thinks of how to leave behind as much coin as possible for the family."

"Not quite. I simply find it a poor bargain. Besides, urns can be quite precious and exquisite, you know. They aren't necessarily cheaper than a coffin."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Mainly, I worry that if I depart before my wife, she will certainly be grieved, but most of all, she'll be furious. When she dresses my corpse, there’s bound to be a touch of personal grievance involved.

I can even see it now: she might purposely paint me up like a clown, leave me in the casket to receive the condolences of our kin and friends, and then quietly count how many of them failed to stifle their laughter."

"Mary is a gentle lady. She would do no such thing."

"Of course, I’m only jesting. Who could know my own wife better than I?"

"In any case, my thanks to you, Mr. Mason. It is through your assistance that tomorrow’s charity drive has been so smoothly arranged."

"Do not be so courteous, Father. After all, you have recommended quite a few clients to our company."

"I did very little. The previous priest of this church was your father; the clientele here belonged to your house from the very beginning."

"As you said, he was the *previous* one."

Rathma offered a mild smile and inquired, "How is your father faring?"

"Very well. Though he cannot wake, whenever I push his chair out for a stroll at dusk, I can sense that his heart is at peace."

"You all care for him deeply. I expect few elders in this world receive such meticulous devotion from their children, much less a slumbering old man."

"That is because when my siblings and I were young, our father cared for us just as deeply."

"To tell the truth, I envy him."

"Priest Rathma, perhaps you ought to find a wife yourself."

"A wife?" Rathma shook his head. "At my advanced age, it is no longer fitting."

"And what of your youth?" Mason asked, blowing a succession of smoke rings off to the side.

"I drifted through the better part of my life in a muddle. It was only when years accumulated upon me that I found the guidance of the Gods. Thus, to spend the remainder of my days in Their service is enough to content me."

"You are lying."

"Oh?"

"I feel the same presence in you that I feel in my father. Therefore, I refuse to believe the better part of your life was spent in a muddled haze."

"Oh, is that so!" Rathma cried out, sudden emotion surging through him.

"Uh..." Mason blinked in astonishment. His arms were abruptly seized by the priest, who shook him with such force that the cigarette he had only taken two drags from tumbled to the ground.

"My apologies, forgive me." Rathma withdrew his hands, mastering his sudden outburst. "I have heard from the congregants here that the former priest, Dis, was a man most worthy of reverence. To hear a similar sentiment from his own son... it stirred me somewhat."

"Sir, there is no need for this."

"Or perhaps, Mr. Mason, you might continue. In what way do your father and I seem alike?"

"It is an elusive impression, difficult to put into words. There are moments when I drive past the church and catch sight of your silhouette, and a wave of abstraction washes over me, as though my father were still here, serving as our priest."

"So that is it. I understand."

"Priest Rathma, please give us the key to the storehouse. We need to move these provisions inside," Mina said, stepping forward.

"Of course, my dear Miss Mina." Rathma handed the key across to her.

Mina turned back, leading her younger brother and sister to resume their labors.

"Have you no kin left at all?" Mason inquired out of curiosity.

"None. I once had a student, but he is in St. Tanyul."

"St. Tanyul... the very place that appears so often in the moving pictures. I only know that the beaches and the sunlight there are magnificent, a world apart from our own shores and endless rain."

"Yes, indeed. It is beautiful there."

"Does he serve as a priest there as well?"

"I do not know. Since my arrival here, I have not broken the silence between us. I imagine he must be faring quite poorly by now."

"Uh..." Mason froze for a second, forced to offer a polite platitude. "Perhaps he has relied on his own endeavors and is living quite well today."

"Would you care for a glass of wine? I vinted it myself."

"Would that be alright?"

"Naturally. Please."

"No, I ought not to impose," Mason replied, waving his hand in refusal.

If the invitation were truly genuine, one wouldn't offer it only after such an extended conversation; it smacked of mere politeness.

"I truly mean to share a glass with you. Furthermore, I have a newly arrived crate of canned herring in my quarters. Who do you think I acquired it for?"

"Well then... very well. My thanks for your hospitality."

Mason followed Rathma into the rear of the church, where an additional structure clung to the main building. It served as the priest's private quarters—formerly a storeroom, since the previous priest’s home sat just beside the church, rendering these lodgings unnecessary.

Rathma poured two glasses of wine, then produced a tin of herring, using the heavy ring upon his finger as a makeshift lever to pry it open.

Instantly, an incredibly "fragrant" aroma permeated the air.

Mason drew a deep breath, an expression of sheer intoxication settling over his features.

Thus, while the youths outside continued to haul the goods, the two adults within began to wash down the canned herring with draft after draft of wine.

With two glasses safely down his throat, Mason’s spirits noticeably picked up.

"To tell the truth, whenever I push my father out for his daily walk, though his eyes never open, I know with absolute certainty that he is constantly pining for my nephew."

"Mary often prays for him here. I know a little of it; his name is Cullen, and he is currently in Wien."

"Yes, indeed. Our Cullen. He is a splendid boy, remarkably clever and burdened with an immense sense of duty. I cannot properly describe the feeling, but there was a time when I would marvel at how our household managed to raise such a child."

Rathma used a fork to convey a piece of fish into his mouth, chewing slowly as he thought to himself: *Is it truly so strange that your household raised such a child?*

"If only he hadn't gone to Wien. To this day, I have no inkling of how matters stand between him and that lady from the aristocratic family. Whether they are together or apart, whenever I press him on the matter, he always glosses over it.

Granted, he rarely calls home, but I do not hold it against him. Whenever we do speak over the wire, I can feel it... that boy is terribly homesick. Terribly, terribly homesick."

"Ah, that child must be suffering in Wien."

Mason said as he raised his glass, offering a toast to the priest sitting across from him.

Rasmar also raised his glass and took a sip of the wine, his gaze sweeping over the pile of waste paper in the corner, which contained many newspapers, including the *Order Weekly*.

Yes, he was indeed suffering, otherwise he wouldn't be making the front-page headlines so frequently.

At times, Rasmar himself found it quite amusing that he was here helping to guard the Immorales family, shielding them from the outside world's gaze, such that not even the eyes of their own Church could pierce through;

Yet across the channel, the young man who had walked out of this very house was making an increasingly high-profile and dazzling name for himself, having merely changed his surname while not even bothering to choose a new given name!

However, upon second thought, Rasmar did not find it strange at all; in the early days, Diss had been here as an Inquisitor and had remained quiet for many years, and during the period of the incident, the internal attention of the Holy Church had been focused solely on Diss, who, after falling into his slumber, had turned this place into a vacuum zone within the Church's domain.

Except for himself... those people in the Holy Church could not possibly know that the grandson of the fellow who had once made the Temple tremble was now on the verge of climbing into the middle management of the Whip of Order.

"I understand Karen, because I was young once too." Mason was getting a bit tipsy, "Young people ought to go out and make their way in the world; only after venturing outside will they truly know just how warm home really is."

"I agree with that sentiment; come, Mr. Mason, let us have another drink to those words."

"Alright, cheers!"

Just then, Mina entered with her younger brother and sister.

"Father, everything has been moved and put away."

"Good, you all did wonderfully!" Mason's face was slightly flushed as he reached into his pocket and pulled out some money to hand to them, "This is the pocket money you earned for your excellent performance."

Mina took the money and distributed it to her brother and sister.

Priest Rasmar also pulled some money from his robe and handed it to Mina: "This is the fee for the porters."

"Thank you, Priest Rasmar."

Mina accepted the money with a smile and said to Mason, "Father, we shall head home first?"

"Alright, do not tell your mother that I have been drinking."

"Of course, but Father, mind you do not come back completely drunk."

Mina led her brother and sister outside, and as they passed the donation box in the church, Mina, Lunt, and Chris placed all the pocket money and wages they had just received into the box.

"Is Mr. Mason very afraid of his wife?"

"Well, she could have lived a better life." Mason sighed, "I owe her a lifetime, truly."

"But during prayers, Mary said that the life she is living now is the most beautiful one."

Mason licked his lips, smiled and nodded, raising his glass once more:

"Come, another drink, Priest; I really suggest you open a winery, and I would be willing to invest, truly, this wine you brew is simply too delicious."

"Hehe." Rasmar picked up the wine bottle to resume pouring, but the next moment, his movement froze.

Freezing along with him was Mason's action of raising his glass; the man seemed completely immobilized, including the wine that had been swirling inside his glass.

Rasmar set down the wine bottle and stood up.

By the time he stood completely straight, he was no longer inside the church but had appeared outside the gate of the detached villa at Number 13 on this very street.

Mina was leading her brother and sister home, yet they seemed entirely unable to see the priest standing at the gate, continuing to chat and laugh as they pushed open the courtyard gate and walked inside.

Rasmar raised his head, his gaze directed toward the third floor.

"I say, what exactly has happened? For more than half a year, you have been sleeping very peacefully; what is the matter today?

What, have you slept for too long, grown bored, and fancied a walk?"

Rasmar deliberately spoke in a very lighthearted tone, but within his heart, he was actually extremely tense.

Because he was the guardian of this place, and this street in this city could, to a certain extent, rival those forbidden zones.

And he, Rasmar, was the guardian of this forbidden zone; he knew full well what it would signify for the Holy Church of Order once the old man lying inside opened his eyes.

"Hey, I say, what is wrong with you after all? If anything is the matter, you can just tell me... no, don't, don't, don't, do not speak, you just keep on sleeping, and I shall guess, alright? I shall guess!"

Rasmar stepped forward into the courtyard gate, one foot landing inside while the other remained outside; if he wanted to guess, he certainly had to get a bit closer.

Yet even now, he did not dare place both feet inside the courtyard, fearing it might cause a misunderstanding.

"No, how am I supposed to guess like this?"

"Well, you ought to at least give some sort of hint, shouldn't you?"

"Even a normal person rolls over on their own while sleeping at night, right?"

The old man lying on the bed inside the house slowly raised a single finger.

Rasmar: "..."

After a long while, Rasmar raised his head, his hands spread out downward, as if restraining some sort of wildly surging emotion within his heart.

Finally,

He cursed loudly: "Diss, you cannot humiliate a man like this; you just move a finger, and I have to go and do your bidding!"

He was, after all, the grand former High Priest of the Holy Church of Order!

Rasmar withdrew the foot he had stepped inside with, and with both feet back outside the gate, he turned around and looked in the direction the finger had pointed.

"I am just looking out of curiosity to see what on earth is going on."

Rasmar gently twisted his neck and closed his eyes.

At the exact same time,

Deep within the night sky, a massive eye appeared and was slowly opening; along with this movement, an ever-widening area all around was falling into its field of vision.

...

"Can you still sense it now?" Lord Augie asked as she continued to speed along.

"I can sense it, but, my Lord, I suggest you slacken your pace a little now."

"Are you worried the assassin will kill your cat, leaving us unable to track him?"

"Yes."

"No need to worry; although I do not know why that assassin went out of his way to seize your cat, I only need three more minutes, and by then, even if he kills your cat, he will not be able to escape my tracking, for at that distance, I can mark him with my own aura."

"I cannot allow my cat to be in danger."

"Which is more important, your cat or the assassin?"

"The cat."

"Hehe." Lord Augie laughed instead of getting angry, "I like your choice; because you value your pet so much, very well!"

After all, she, Lord Augie, was merely a pet of the Whip-Bearer herself, so her allegiance naturally lay with Purr.

"However, if we slow down, it might end up with your cat still being in danger, and as for the assassin, we might not catch him either."

"Lord Augie, if you trust me, please slow down a little."

"What if I refuse?"

"I will give you the wrong directions, achieving the exact same effect as slowing down."

"Why are you only worrying about this now?"

Because...

Karen’s gaze swept down toward the highway below, then shifted to the valley ahead—a modest collection of hills that served as a mere embellishment to the landscape.

Once across that valley, they would cross into the territory of Luojia City.

And the assassin's flight was heading directly for Luojia City.

Karen had no intention of calling upon his grandfather to save Purr right now; on one hand, he knew all too well what it would signify if his slumbering grandfather were to awaken, and on the other, he knew there was someone else currently residing on Mink Street.

Lord Lasma, surely you wouldn't wish to see an assassin who slaughtered the family of this Church's Chief Bishop escape right under your nose!

...

"Oh? That dragon's speed has diminished. It certainly isn't due to exhaustion—I refuse to believe the physical resilience of the dragon race is so pathetic. Why, then? Could it be that it can no longer maintain a clear lock on your location?"

Sensing the distance widening between himself and the dragon behind them, Valotti instinctively lowered the sand spike pointed at Purr ever so slightly. Unless absolutely pushed to the brink, he had no desire to kill Purr, for he wished to extract the secrets of the God of Light from her.

Purr ignored the sand spike before her, instead poking her head out and looking down at the ground below; upon spotting the familiar features of the city not far away, she spoke:

"Valotti, was it? You just stated your name, correct?"

"Yes, what of it?"

"Do you know why this place is a vacuum zone within the sphere of influence of the Church of Order?"

"You know?"

"Naturally. When you designed your escape route, you should have given it more thought. If a patch of forest suddenly lacks any small animals, there can only be one reason;

And that is, this domain belongs to a true beast!"

With those words, Purr flared her whiskers and, mimicking a tiger, let out a feline roar:

"Meow-ooooh!!!"

"Hehehe." Valotti chuckled. "You know, I am actually beginning to find you a bit endearing."

Purr turned her head and blinked her eyes.

"Heh, even more endearing now."

"Heh-heh meow," Purr chortled in spite of herself, lifting a paw to point toward the night sky as she cursed with a laugh, "Idiot, look up."

Hearing this, Valotti

Raised his head,

And saw that upon the canopy of the sky directly above him, a colossal eye was staring right back down at him.

Purr joyfully waved her paws twice,

And shouted up toward the expanse:

"Hey, little Lasma, have you had dinner yet?"