A Risky Gamble
Travis stood in front of the bookshelf, reading a blue book with gold thread binding by the dim candlelight. He first heard hurried and approaching footsteps, the door opened and closed, and the clear breathing in this cold and quiet room. He looked up and said, "The Light Faith and Spiritual Sacrifice, by Archbishop Benedictus. You can publish seven or eight volumes of this stuff a year. Tell me, is this line of business very profitable?"
Benedictus stood at the other end of the room five meters away, accompanied by two guards.
"Put it back. Don't try to judge what you don't understand." Benedictus said. Recently he had been suffering from persistent insomnia. In order to maintain a spirited image in church activities, he had to rely on makeup artists to cover up his dull forehead and tired eye sockets.
Travis threw the book back on the shelf, then stroked the hilt of his long sword.
"Your men wanted to take this away before letting me in. I refused."
"You should have listened to them. This sacred room is not suitable for bloodstained objects."
"You're right, this sword has taken many lives, noble and mean. Are you afraid?"
"Don't think too highly of yourself, Travis. The only thing that makes me tremble is the majesty of the Holy Light."
"Forget it, drop the act. Why did you summon me in the middle of the night?"
"Don't take the initiative to contact me for the time being," the Archbishop said, "no matter what. The farther you stay away from the Holy Light Cathedral, the better."
"I don't quite understand what you mean. If I can't take the initiative to contact you, how do I let you know my latest findings?"
"I don't need your information for the time being. This matter is temporarily dropped."
"You're afraid."
"Don't make wild guesses."
"Seven more little ones have been dug out by me. Four were illegitimate children, two were firstborn sons with inheritance rights, and one was the eldest daughter. They were all descendants of members of the royal parliament. Their crimes included evading military service, embezzling funds, and inflicting serious injuries. These little ones were so versatile, weren't they? Don't you want to know their names? Don't you want to know how much money the rich daddies who doted on them paid Shawl to quell the matter? "
"I don't know what you're talking about. No, I didn't hear what you said. I just want you to promise not to take the initiative to contact me."
Travis pounded the bookshelf hard with his fist. Several books fell off.
"Did you reveal something too early?" he said.
"I have been very carefully handling the information you provided. I believe it has not been leaked to anyone. But you..."
"Do you know how much danger I take to investigate these things? Every night I have to guard against being chopped off for no reason. And that would be merciful. Now I have handed over what I have exchanged for my life to you, and you doubt my prudence."
"I just want to put this matter aside for the time being. It's not time yet."
"There's not much time left. Let me kindly remind you that your bill will come up for a vote in parliament in a month."
"I don't need you to remind me of that."
"Without my information, that shit bill would get zero votes in favor. Only the mentally impaired would agree to your mandatory frontline church sponsorship plan. You're reaching directly into the pockets of everyone in the kingdom."
Benedictus' jaw trembled, and he seemed to feel a centipede crawling up from his heart, entwining his brain, causing a sting in the bottom of his eyes and blurring his vision.
"Too rude," he said, "I cannot accept such insults. For the salvation of mankind and the encouragement of frontline fighters, the church needs more..."
"Save that nonsense for parliament. Unfortunately, that won't convince any member of parliament. On the contrary, only my intelligence can." Don't you understand that I'm trying to help you?"
Benedictus really wanted to turn around and leave the room, but he couldn't.
"I see." Travis said. "It's because of Bossia. How long has she been missing? Let me think...six days. Enough to make you lose your appetite?"
"I forbid you to talk about my holy maiden."
"It looks like that's the reason. You're afraid she might never come back."
Insomnia began the day Bossia was arrested. After she disappeared, Benedictus wanted to mobilize a large number of people to search for her, but he couldn't. He could only actually command the Holy Light Cathedral Guards, and the Guards existed to maintain the dignity of the Cathedral. If it were eighteen years ago, when he was just an ordinary priest, he would have given up everything to protect Bossia's safety. But he couldn't do it now.
He remembered that cold morning eighteen years ago when Bossia's parents came to his room holding the sleeping baby. This couple were not only his friends, but also his benefactors who sponsored his theological studies and saved his life. The girl born to them at nearly forty was their most precious treasure in life, and Benedictus considered it a great honor to be able to look after the girl for them before they went into battle.
Benedictus never thought they would die in battle. He thought that they were so kind and brave that the Holy Light would protect them from the affection of death. When he learned the bad news, he looked at the cradle where Bossia was and resolved not to let her come to any harm.
Eighteen years had passed and Benedictus had reached a position he had never imagined in his youth. He began to enjoy the huge murals on the dome of the cathedral that took six months to complete, the pure silver dinnerware, and the gorgeous gold threads on his robes. He broke the vows of his youth and had secret affairs with young aristocratic women. Sometimes he would wake up in a dream, recalling his youthful self, and feel intense remorse. But this remorse was never intense enough for him to give up the cream on the cakes before his eyes.
The only thing that made him believe he had not gone rotten to the core was Bossia. Although the scenes of eighteen years ago were becoming more and more blurred, he still remembered the pure excitement of dedicating his life at that time. Once she disappeared, that part of the memory would disappear completely. He knew he would become a completely different person.
When Bossia disappeared, Benedictus thought Shawl would question him immediately. But Shawl didn't. This made Benedictus think of a more chilling possibility: the person who made Bossia disappear was Shawl himself. Her life was in danger. But now, he found that he could not gamble Bossia's life with the dignity of the entire Cathedral.
"What's the matter, speechless?"
"Do you know what happened to Bossia?"
"I don't know. I only know that the little girl seems to have slipped away right under Shawl's nose, and it sounds like a miracle. If that's the case, I really have to compliment you on training your holy maiden well. "
"I will deal with her affairs. You don't need to worry about these things."
"How come you don't talk about your high-sounding theories at this time? Don't tell me you really think that a female Paladin can be more important than that bill."
"Don't pretend to be considering everything for me, I know what you're thinking. We all know that Shawl is 71 years old. No one can guarantee how much longer he will live. At such a time, members of Military Intelligence Section 7 who plan to expand their influence are not only you. Of course, the information you can provide is indeed very useful, which is why I choose to cooperate with you."
"Don't you think our mutually beneficial relationship has been very successful?"
"There is no mutual benefit," Benedictus said, "remember your identity. You only have the obligation to help me, not the right to ask me for benefits. You must understand that in this matter, I stand in the open, as the recipient of information. No one will question my loyalty to the kingdom. But you—even if Shawl loses his position or his life, you will never gain respect from this long and foolish plan, because you will be seen as a traitor to the MI7. There is only one way to solve this: obey me completely. Questioning, opposing, refusing, you cannot do that. Only then will I consider providing you with a shelter after Shawl disappears. You are nothing more than a rat with no way out. Do you understand? "
Travis struggled to suppress the urge to draw his sword. He seemed to feel countless needles piercing his fingertips. A few days ago, when escorting Dalia on a hunting trip, Jorgen had pressed a dagger against his throat. Jorgen had said then that Travis Sylvan, the weakling and coward. And now the Archbishop called him a rat with no way out.
He warned himself to stay calm. These were things that had to be experienced. He believed his plan was perfect, providing intelligence to the Archbishop, helping the bill pass, while also damaging Shawl's political reputation and accelerating his downfall. As for himself, he would become a national hero who exposed corruption and easily gained a high position in the MI7. That's how things should develop. Now, he had to endure first. His hand left the hilt.
"Alright," he said, "I'm leaving. Remember you have a month left."
Benedictus called two guards to escort Travis out. As Travis was about to leave, Benedictus said:
"Travis, I knew Shawl before you were born. I know what he has done to expand the influence of the MI7. From my understanding of him, I can tell you clearly that you will never become him. Maybe someone will, but that person will definitely not be you."
Travis said nothing, leaving with the guards.
Benedictus knew he had taken a risky step. He didn't want to push Travis into desperation, but he intended to take complete control of him. If Shawl really had Bossia in his grasp, he would have a card of his own. On the way back to his bedroom, he suddenly realized that in his heart he had already regarded Bossia as a vague phantom that disturbed his future, rather than the baby he had vowed to protect for life eighteen years ago. But he did not feel uneasy. He lay in bed and fell asleep quickly.