The house Audrey Hall had arranged for Silas was likewise in the North District, separated from St. Samuel's Cathedral by a few streets.
"So this is what she meant by a 'small house': a two-story detached residence right in the heart of the city, even larger than old Neil's place..."
Silas looked at the house before him and shook his head.
Truth be told, he was fairly well-off himself, with at least tens of thousands of pounds in cash on hand, but he still had trouble imagining how the nobility actually lived.
After finishing his visits with Sharron and Maric, Silas had gone to call on Isengard Stanton. This famous detective seemed to have ties to the Church of Knowledge behind him, and might prove useful.
He crossed the neatly trimmed garden, came to the door, and used the key that The Fool had sent over through Justice to let himself in.
Inside, the spacious house was fully furnished, down to the last detail. The leather sofas gleamed, the furniture was handsome in form and sturdy in make, all of it clearly high-end.
Only, everything looked as though it had just been arranged. The floors and glass were spotless, and the air still carried the fresh scent of a recent cleaning.
It seemed that before handing over the key, Justice had already arranged for servants to tidy the place up in advance.
Silas closed the door behind him and walked into the sitting room.
He sat down on the sofa before the fireplace, and a soft, yielding cushion instantly enveloped him. Even as his body settled into the comfort of it, the expression on his face remained heavy.
"What's wrong?"
Ma'am M's silhouette appeared before the fireplace. "You've just reconnected with an old friend, and moved into such a fine house... yet you still don't look happy."
He had become a Senior Deacon of the Night Church. He had effortlessly acquired a high-end property here in Backlund. And yet Silas simply sat on the sofa, his face blank.
"When I left the Bridge District in Backlund, I could have swung by the East District to take a look," he said slowly, his voice low. "But I didn't."
There, once, had been a street that belonged to him, and lambs who had truly believed in him.
Now they had merged into his shadow along with the dead of the East District's great fog, becoming part of him. Those once-tidy streets were probably already claimed by other gangs and criminals.
"Your mental state has already deteriorated badly. Not going was the sensible choice."
Ma'am M answered, though whether it was meant as comfort or explanation, it was hard to say.
"Mm."
"..."
Silas said flatly.
Rather than sit here wallowing in grief over spring flowers and autumn sorrows, it was better to keep pushing forward. Avenging them was what truly mattered.
Facing the dark, cold fireplace, Silas began to think things through.
What should he do next?
Simply put, his efforts could be divided into two parts: within the Church, and outside it.
Within the Church, Silas's core goal was to accumulate merit, so as to win the Goddess's favor and obtain the traits and formulas of Sequence 3, or even something higher still.
As always, Silas did not actually believe in the Goddess, but he was willing to work for her so long as it served his own goals.
Ariana had already made things quite clear: there might be a mole inside St. Samuel's Cathedral, one who had led to the death of a Senior Deacon.
If Silas could root out that mole, or reconstruct the truth of what had happened, it should earn him a good deal of credit.
And outside the Church, he had his own business to attend to: revenge against his enemies.
Ince Zangwill, the Aurora Order, the Royal House of Loen... though, as it happened, these same enemies were also targets of the Church's own investigations, so killing them would help him build merit at the same time...
To sum it all up, there were three things: work, root out the mole, hunt down enemies.
Revenge, of course, took top priority. Rooting out the mole came a little after that. As for work... what exactly was he, a Senior Deacon, supposed to be doing again?
"What you're in charge of is managing the 'Red Gloves' squad of the Backlund parish."
The Sword of the Goddess, Crestet Cesimir, said, "When this special unit needs to be deployed, make sure the missions get done as much as possible... as for the rest of the time, you can take it easy. Just think about how to train the personnel."
So, combat and training... that really was the sort of thing a disciplinary unit ought to be doing day to day.
Silas thought to himself.
In fact, he had crossed paths with this Senior Deacon once before.
Back then, he had been nothing more than a Sequence 9 Secrets Suppliant, and he had come to check on his security, though partway through, the whole business with old Neil had erupted...
Truly, the whims of fate. Now here he was, a Sequence 4, while he had likewise risen, from the Sequence 5 Spirit Warlock to Nightwatcher.
Silas felt a small pang of emotion at that, then asked, his tone carefully neutral, "The Deacon Sylvester before me, was he in charge of this same area of work?"
Sylvester was the Senior Deacon who had, for no apparent reason, taken his own life.
"That's right."
Cesimir glanced at him, then gave a small nod. "Sylvester managed the Red Gloves the same as I do, overseeing the recruitment and training of personnel... though of course, his responsibilities didn't end there."
The reason Silas was asking was that he wanted to learn more about the Deacon, in hopes of turning up some lead.
But Cesimir did not go into detail about what else Sylvester had handled. He only sighed and traced a crimson moon over his chest. "May the Goddess watch over him, and grant him peaceful rest in the depths of the night..."
"Mm. Praise the Goddess."
Silas traced a crimson moon over his own chest as well. Whether there was any real devotion behind it, only he himself knew.
"Let me introduce you to the squad."
Cesimir said.
He rose from his chair and led Silas outside. Before long, they arrived at an underground plaza.
Several groups of personnel were already lined up across the plaza, each of them wearing a pair of vivid red gloves.
Compared to an ordinary Nightwatch unit, they did indeed look sharper, more disciplined.
"The Backlund region has five Red Gloves squads in total. Two are currently on assignment out of town, so as you can see, the remaining three are all here."
Cesimir said flatly, tightening his grip on the strange case he carried. "I have another assignment and need to leave Backlund shortly. The people here are in your hands now."
He seemed to be in a hurry. No sooner had he finished speaking than he picked up that peculiar case and strode off, leaving Silas standing there with everyone else, sizing each other up.
Silas let his gaze sweep across the faces of the squad members. Suspicion, awe, confusion, all of it was written on their faces.
He quickly spotted Leonard and Miss Daly among them. Leonard was still a rank-and-file member, while Miss Daly had already become a squad leader.
"Ahab Ishmael."
He introduced himself first. "You should have already met me yesterday."
"As Lord Cesimir said, starting today, I will be taking the place of Senior Deacon Sylvester, who has become a Ascetic, and leading you into battle from here on."