Surprising Offers

Under the guidance of two priests, Jorgen entered a study in the cathedral. Benedictus, with his back turned, was dusting the upper shelves.

"You wanted to see me?" Jorgen asked.

Benedictus turned around, placing the duster on the table. "I want to introduce someone to you, Jorgen. But he hasn't arrived yet... being late is his old habit. Come in, let's chat while we wait."

"I didn't bring any files you might need. You should have someone inform..."

"This time, no official business. Come, sit."

Jorgen sat on the central bench. After instructing the priests to leave, Benedictus took a seat across from Jorgen.

"So," the Archbishop said, "how is Mardias?"

"I shouldn't tell you."

"I thought so. But still, I hope you can share casually, from a personal perspective. Our conversation won't be recorded, will it?"

"He's still a child. Learning."

"Every child needs to learn at this age."

"That's all I can say."

"Can't blame me for being a bit curious, can you? Everyone is interested in what the future leader of the MI7 looks like. People want to know his appearance, eye color, what he wears, how tall he is. And some want to know how he speaks and acts."

"One day, you'll naturally find out."

"And you? How about yourself lately?"

"Me?"

"You and Lady Dalia."

"This isn't a concern for a Archbishop."

"Well, if that's the case, we shouldn't have talked privately from the beginning. What can I say? You're the only MI7 agent I can talk to, perhaps the most exposed unbeliever I've encountered. Your whole being, from body to soul, is a reflection of another world, a world that should be an enemy of the Light. Yet, here we are, sitting in a room together—a rare occurrence."

The Archbishop smiled silently. Amidst the adoration on the altar and in public, Benedictus remained the serene spokesman for the Light. Yet, in the depths of the cathedral during private meetings, Jorren could always sense a worldly fatigue.

"We're doing fine."

"Ever considered marriage?"

What?

Jorgen suddenly felt like laughing, but he restrained himself. First, Eirelyn suggested moving, and now Benedictus brought up the topic of marriage—a subject that made Jorgen uneasy, considering their respective roles. He knew Eirelyn's suggestion came from a place of concern as a friend, but Benedictus's comment was less clear. In their years of interaction, Jorgen felt Benedictus's trust in him exceeded his own trust in Benedictus. Still, Jorgen had to be cautious in deciding how to respond.

"Lord Benedictus, you've truly surprised me today."

"The key is, it's better for Lady Dalia this way. A woman should have a proper identity and belonging. If you're interested, I can arrange a suitable church..."

"Sorry, looks like you don't know Dalia is a non-believer like me."

"Is that so... a pity. Because I was impressed with Lady Dalia's charitable activities, I thought she cultivated such virtues under the teachings of the Light."

"Not everyone willing to give alms to beggars is a follower of the Light."

"True."

If it were a few years ago, Benedictus wouldn't have calmly agreed to this statement.

"Archbishop, Lindy," a priest opened the door and said, "Bishop Lindy is here."

"Let him in." Benedictus turned to Jorgen. "He's the person I wanted to introduce to you."

They both stood up. After a moment, a bespectacled man, not reaching Jorgen's shoulder height, entered. He walked with a slight limp but in a hurry, as if he might step on his overlong robes at any moment. His right arm clutched two thick books. When he reached Jorgen, he shifted the books to his left armpit before extending his right hand to Jorgen. Throughout this process, he didn't glance at Benedictus, not in a contemptuous manner but more like he deliberately ignored something too familiar.

"I am Bishop Lindy Lortleek." He tilted his head to Jorgen. "You must be Jorgen? Pleasure to meet you."

After exchanging greetings and a handshake, the frail bishop surprisingly had a firm grip. Though meeting him directly for the first time, Jorgen remembered Lindy, like Nehari stationed in the Plaguelands, was one of the candidates for the next Archbishop. In case Benedictus died or couldn't perform his duties due to unforeseen circumstances, they would have to contend for the vacant title of Light's spokesperson.

"Lindy is also the director of the cathedral's hospital, 'Redemption of Light,'" Benedictus said.

"I know, the largest church hospital in the city. I guess that's why... you're carrying two pharmacopoeias." Jorgen addressed Lindy. He felt both should sit down to avoid an uneven conversation, but neither of the clerics seemed inclined to do so.

Lindy patted Jorgen's arm. "Ha, you're even more robust than I imagined. Otherwise, you wouldn't be able to discipline that stubborn Nehari, right?"

Coming from someone with a bishop's title, this statement left Jorgen unsure how to react. What surprised him even more was Benedictus's response: a natural smile.

"You were cleaning the shelves? Continue, I and Mr. Jorgen will talk outside," Lindy said.

"Please make yourselves comfortable." Benedictus gestured with his left hand towards the door.

"Follow me." Lindy walked outside without looking back, his pace quicker than when he entered. Jorgen slowed down to catch up. From behind, the person in front didn't look like a cleric but more like a circus ringmaster.

Lindy led Jorgen to a nearby corridor and stopped. Sitting on a stone pedestal by the corridor, he placed the pharmacopoeias on his knee. He turned his head to glance at the courtyard, then faced Jorgen. "Sit down as well. The air is much better outside. I just can't stand that room; staying there for too long would surely make me ill."

"So," Jorgen sat down, "what did you want to discuss?"

Lindy stared at Jorgen for a moment, then patted his atrophied leg. "It's okay, I know you're interested in these legs; no need to hide it. Everyone is curious. During my sermons, people often ask, 'How high is he standing on that stool?' At first, I could pretend not to hear, but eventually, I got used to it. They always expect me to tell an inspiring story of conquering the pain in these legs to become a bishop, but I never do. You're not interested in such stories, right? I'm sure you're not. You're from MI7, and motivational stories, especially with a religious background, aren't your thing. But I never had any strange illnesses; these legs broke twice when I was a child. The first time was from horseback riding, and the second time, after the initial break, they never quite developed. Many people are disappointed when they hear the truth."

This lengthy monologue was even faster than Lindy's footsteps, and Jorgen missed about a third of it. "To be honest... you've expanded my understanding of the role of a Light's bishop," he said.

"Feels like I talked too much, huh? Every cleric must learn to speak on stage. I just happen to have things to say off-stage. But if you weren't from MI7 but some council member, I probably couldn't do this. I'd have to walk slowly, pretend these legs were never broken. You should break Nehari's legs, not just make his nose bleed. He always pretends not to see my limp, but the more he does, the more I know he enjoys the victorious feeling of looking down on others. He's tall and should know the taste of a limp."

"Let's get back to the point. I can't spend the whole day here."

"Alright, the point. The point. I like to get straight to the point. Has Lady Dalia's charity organization ceased operations?"

"You could say that."

"As the head of the Redemption of Light hospital, I'm willing to take over all affairs and records. Some of the office equipment can be accepted as well."

"You might not know, there are some debt issues..."

"I'll take those on too. And in my name, recovering those unpaid funds should be straightforward. Of course, Dalia must transfer ownership without compensation."

Jorgen didn't know what to say. Just a few days ago, a series of problems that had troubled him and Dalia suddenly had several people taking turns to offer help. Henrik was offering a substantial fee, Elin helping find a new residence, and now the unfamiliar Lindy Lortleek proposed taking over the charity organization — all topped with the Archbishop's marriage suggestion as a bonus. If he were a more trusting person, and not an MI7 agent, he would have been overjoyed and almost unable to express it. He felt like a fish that had been drying on the riverbank for a while, suddenly returned to the water. Although the water around him felt clear, he couldn't help but doubt if he had ended up in a cauldron.

"You... you should talk to Dalia. She understands the organization better."

"Hey!" Lindy patted Jorgen's chest. "You're her man! And you look like the kind always ready to throw any man wanting to get close to her out the window. This is a big deal; I need you to talk to her first. Moreover, decisions like this should be discussed between you two, right? If not, if I rush to your house and entangle Dalia without discussing it with you first, I might just get a kick out."

"Do I really look like that kind of person?"

"Don't take that too seriously. The key is for you two to reach a consensus, and then we can make an agreement. Got it? That's it; I have to get back to the hospital. Don't think only MI7 agents can use busyness as an excuse. Goodbye. If there's good news, come to the hospital and find me. Of course, bring Dalia along, and we'll have a detailed discussion."

Lindy said "goodbye" again and briskly left. Jorgen remained seated on the stone pedestal, watching the fountain in the courtyard. He felt he should organize the events of the past few days in his mind, but somehow, he couldn't.