Backlund, North District, St. Samuel's Church.
Leonard had finished his patrol duties, stepped down from the carriage, and climbed the steps one by one into the church.
There was a faint darkness in his eyes.
Since returning from Tingen, Leonard's spirit had been somewhat shaken. It wasn't obvious enough for others to notice, but he seemed a bit subdued all the same. He didn't regret joining the "Red Gloves." It was only that he had begun to doubt the backgrounds and true identities of those two teammates who had faked their deaths.
What had they joined the Tingen Nightwatcher squad for...
Did it have anything to do with what happened back then...
Or was there some other reason...
The useless old man living in his head couldn't offer any reasonable explanation, so Leonard was left to think it through on his own.
For him, that was genuinely exhausting, and it drained a fair amount of energy.
Thinking this over, he stepped into the church's mass hall.
The scenery around him abruptly dimmed, though not the kind of darkness that stole one's sight and made a person uncomfortable. It was a gentle dimness instead, the sort that brought calm and peace, the sort that made a person feel they could stay there forever.
On the wall directly ahead, pieces of translucent glass formed the Goddess's sacred emblem. Sunlight passed through the glass and shone in, and against the dim surroundings, the emblem appeared so pure and lofty.
Leonard's footsteps slowed unconsciously. Though there were quite a few people in the hall, none of them spoke loudly.
Aside from the attendants cleaning and tidying and the priests conducting the daily rites, the worshippers all sat in their pews, heads bowed, praying in silence.
He quietly wove his way past the rows of seats and into a side passage, eventually making his way underground to the Red Gloves' temporary lounge.
"Back already?"
Several teammates were in the lounge, and they greeted him as he entered. "How'd it go? Anything unusual?"
"Everything was normal. Rare, that."
Leonard chatted idly with them, then walked over to a corner and sat down. He picked up a copy of the Backlund Post lying on the table and, without much regard for manners, propped his legs up on it.
He unfolded the pages. The Backlund Post's front-page headline read:
[Shocking! The "King of Immortality" Has Fallen, the "Scarlet King" Is Born, Has the Ruler of the Pirates Already Changed Hands?!]
This newspaper really is behind on the news...
Leonard thought to himself.
The Nightwatchers had received the intelligence internally days ago: that infamous Blood Reverend had officially become the new ruler of the seas. He had even herded the "King of Immortality" like livestock, gravely wounded the "Divine Abomination" Suah, and won the recognition of the other two rulers.
Silas, of all people, becoming this strong in such a short time... it made no sense at all!
After confirming that the Blood Reverend was none other than his former colleague, Leonard had been quietly gathering information on him ever since. Not only that, he had also been searching for the whereabouts of "Sherlock Moriarty" after he left Backlund, but had turned up nothing.
If the two of them were in league together, could Klein possibly be out there serving as a pirate on Silas's crew...
Holding up the newspaper, Leonard's thoughts began to drift further afield.
"Thud, thud..."
Just then, footsteps sounded at the lounge door, and their squad captain, who had since been promoted to "Spirit Warlock," Sorster, walked in.
"Captain."
"Afternoon, Captain."
Everyone called out in turn, and Leonard pressed the newspaper down with two fingers to greet Sorster as well.
"Leonard's back too. Good timing."
Sorster nodded at him. "We're gathering right now, heading to Conference Room Three for a meeting."
The moment Leonard heard "Conference Room Three," he knew at once that this meeting had to be a large one. Conference Room Three was a sizable room, one that could seat a good many people.
Everyone rose to their feet at the news, and one curious soul couldn't help but ask, "Captain, what's this meeting about?"
"I don't know either, but it's probably something important."
Sorster's expression turned somewhat solemn. "I saw that Archbishop St. Anthony, Lord Kreste, and Lady Isabella have all been notified..."
Everyone froze at that.
Having an archbishop and two senior deacons attend a meeting did sound formal indeed, perhaps even a bit too serious.
"It's not another one of those earth-shattering cases, is it?"
someone said without quite thinking.
"Shut your mouth!"
The others immediately shouted, startling the man into a flinch. From their years of experience on the job, they knew better than to let anyone play the prophet of doom at a time like this. Say it, and it just might come true.
Leonard, for his part, didn't feel much of anything. He simply followed the others out of the lounge and made his way toward Conference Room Three.
The corridor grew steadily more crowded as relevant church personnel gathered from every direction. Among the crowd, Leonard spotted Miss Daly. She was already a Sequence 6 "Death Mentor" and had become the captain of her own squad.
Sensing Leonard's gaze, Daly, her eyes done up in mysterious makeup, looked over at him and gave a slight nod of greeting.
"Good afternoon."
Sorster, walking ahead, assumed Daly was looking at him and waved back with more enthusiasm than the moment called for, only to be completely ignored.
"Pfft..."
Leonard nearly laughed, but managed to hold it back in time.
The crowd surged forward like a tide, flowing into the conference room and finding seats wherever they could. At the very front, Archbishop St. Anthony and the two deacons were already seated.
Beside the three of them was an empty chair.
"Your Grace, everyone's here."
someone said to Anthony Stevenson.
"Good."
The bishop in charge of the Backlund diocese nodded gently and swept his gaze across the crowd. His face was clean shaven, his eyes deep set, and though he wore the black and red robes of an archbishop, there was nothing gloomy about the impression he gave.
The vast conference room fell utterly silent.
Anyone who met the bishop's gaze directly would feel, deep down, an involuntary shiver, as though some invisible fear held dominion over their Spirituality, or as though something in the darkness were watching them.
"I'm pleased to share a piece of good news with everyone."
St. Anthony's voice was not loud, yet it carried with perfect clarity to every ear in the spacious room. "The Church has promoted a new senior deacon, who will be responsible for matters concerning our Backlund diocese."
A new senior deacon?
Who could it be?
No one dared make a sound in front of the archbishop, but curiosity flickered in everyone's eyes all the same.
"Heh heh... why don't we have him come out and meet everyone."
St. Anthony gave a light chuckle and waved his hand slightly.
With that, the conference room door opened, and a man stood outside it. Bathed in the appraising gazes of everyone present, he strode in without the slightest hesitation, walked over to the empty chair beside Isabella, the "Wing of the Goddess," and sat down, turning a pair of red eyes toward the crowd gathered there.
"Ahab Ishmael."
he introduced himself flatly.