Chapter 38
The elven guard was on patrol when they were attacked. All of them fell unconscious, and one elf went missing, causing a great uproar within the elven race.
There must be some ill-intentioned individuals who heard about the changes within the Elven race and wanted to take advantage of the situation! They also lost an honest and kind companion!
The Elf King stepped forward, calmed the elves, and then, looking weary, requested the three bishops to investigate the matter.
Finney sat to one side, his eyes half-closed, saying nothing.
Clark was thinner than Garcia, but still as big as two Elf Kings. Sitting on a chair woven from vines, his belly stretched his bishop's robes tightly. Hearing this, he chuckled and said, "What are you saying, Your Majesty the Elf King? We said before that outsiders cannot interfere in the affairs of the Elf race."
Garcia raised his chin, his manners better than Clark's, and his tone was that of the arrogant royal family of Lortheran: "It's just an elf, at worst he'll die."
The Elf King's face turned green with rage, but he felt he had to swallow his pride and bear the consequences: "I was wrong before. I apologize to the two archbishops and ask that you two go and see for yourselves..."
As he was speaking, an elf flew in hastily from outside, his face flushed. He glared fiercely at Clark and Garcia, then shouted, "Uncle Barney is awake! He says the people who attacked them were cardinals from the church!"
The room fell silent. Finney finally opened his eyes, which seemed to have been sleepy for a long time. Clark and Garcia exchanged a glance, then looked at the Elf King with smiles on their faces.
The Elf King's facial muscles twitched slightly: "Is that so... Let him explain in detail... Perhaps it's a misunderstanding..." He spoke weakly, cursing inwardly for the boy's reckless shouting, putting him on the hot seat.
The elf misunderstood, looking on incredulously: "Your Majesty, are you going to blindly trust outsiders?!"
“Yes, Your Majesty the Elf King, we should ask more carefully. If there is a traitor in the Church, we will not let him go.” Clark sat up slightly, his face serious.
Last night, Barney, the captain of the elven guard, was brought in quickly. He had just fainted and had no wounds. When he saw the people sitting in the room, he suddenly realized something.
Although the elves guarding the Elf King stood around him, the two fat humans, dressed in magnificent and elaborate archbishop robes with glittering gold badges hanging on their chests, stared at him with harmless smiles.
The Elf King's expression was not good, but he still said in a deep voice, "Barney, were the people you saw last night really from the Church?"
Barney snapped out of his daze and remembered that his companions had been crying and telling him that an elf had gone missing after he regained consciousness. His heart tightened, and he said, "It's true. The goblins noticed him as soon as he stepped into the outer edge of the forest. We rushed over to warn him to leave immediately, but he didn't listen."
He didn't mention that before the warning, the dozen or so arrows that flew out were enough to kill an ordinary human seven or eight times over.
Garcia, still sprawled in the wicker chair, said calmly, "The Cardinal? Do you remember what he looked like?"
“I remember! He was wearing a hat, but when we made eye contact, I could clearly see that he had black hair and one eye was black and the other was red,” Barney said very quickly.
"puff--"
Next to Garcia, Clark, who had just taken a sip of the tree honey, a specialty of the Elven race, suddenly spat out the honey, followed by a tremendous cough.
Finney's face was expressionless, but his hands, which were tucked into his sleeves, suddenly clenched tightly.
Garcia looked disgusted and threw out a magic circle. The ground was instantly clean and tidy again, and Clark's earth-shattering cough was also blocked by the magic circle.
He looked at Barney again and smiled: "So, you found out he was a cardinal when you got there?"
Barney choked. Yes, that's right, the church's emblem is very obvious, but, but...
The next second, Garcia slammed his hand on the table next to him. The table couldn't withstand the blow and shattered into dust. The Elf King was so frightened that he almost jumped up from his seat.
"You! Lord Garcia, this is the Elf Forest!" His face was clearly filled with anger. "Are you trying to intimidate my people?!"
Finally, Finney, who had been silent all along, could no longer hold back. He raised his eyes, and his light green pupils reflected an almost golden color under the light. These near-golden pupils also showed that his bloodline was in no way inferior to that of the Elf King on the throne.
At this moment, his face turned cold, and he said in a deep voice, "The cardinal with the hat is from the Execution Department. The Execution Department would not arrest an elf for no reason. You had better think about whether that elf is related to the Holy Descendant incident."
"How is that possible? A mere peripheral elf—" The Elf King's rebuttal came quickly, but he also fell silent just as fast.
His face suddenly stiffened as he met Finney's icy gaze.
But he still forced himself to finish speaking: "How could an ordinary elf be related to the Holy Descendant? I know that elf; he's an extremely simple and honest child. He can't even get close to the Elf Mother Tree, so it's impossible for him to have any contact with the Holy Descendant."
Over there, Clark, finally calmed down, destroyed Garcia's magic circle, cleared his throat, and said seriously, "Whether it matters or not, we can just check the Execution Division's prison."
Garcia chuckled: "Your Majesty the Elf King, there's no need to rush. We'll send a message back to the High Papacy, and we'll have the results soon."
Finney remained silent with a sullen face, stared at Barney for a moment, and then resumed his half-closed state.
Barney, who was being questioned, looked pale and swaying, and after Clark took out the communication artifact, he couldn't help but faint.
The guards carried away the unconscious Barney.
"Let me think, who's on duty today?"
Garcia: "If I remember correctly, it's Lord Uther."
Clark paused, but a cold male voice rang out from the magical artifact: "What is it?"
"Ahem, Your Excellency Uther, may I ask if there were any new criminals in the Execution Division last night?" Clark's voice became serious.
There was a moment of silence before someone slowly said, "The Execution Department doesn't have it."
The Elf King's face twisted instantly, a mixture of joy and smugness, yet he dared not show it too obviously. This forced restraint caused the muscles in his face to twitch.
However, Uther's voice rang out again, and he said, word by word, "The Land of Fallen Gods has opened."
After saying that, he unilaterally cut off the communication.
Clark's smiling face was gone. He swallowed hard, put away the magical artifact, and subconsciously glanced at his good companion Garcia.
The other person's face was unusually serious.
Finney opened his eyes again, his face slightly pale. The Elf King didn't know what the Land of Fallen Gods was, but it sounded like the prison of the High Papacy, so his face turned grim again.
“There’s nothing more to say, Your Majesty the Elf King. Those who are arrested by the Execution Division certainly wouldn’t be innocent victims of your people. You should think carefully about what really happened with the Holy Descendants.” Clark shrugged.
Certain images flashed through the Elf King's mind, and he gritted his teeth: "I want to know what the Land of Fallen Gods is, and what heinous crimes my people have committed."
Clark and Garcia exchanged a glance, then looked at Finney. Clark smiled again: "Lord Finney, you may speak."
As the Grand Elder of the Elven race, Finney rarely returned to the Elven race after being elected Archbishop ten years ago. He was busy handling all matters concerning the Elven race in human society, as well as some duties at the High Papacy.
This incident involving the exchange of the holy descendants can be traced back to fifteen years ago, and it was carried out by the Upper Elder, the Lower Elder, and the Second Elder.
The upper and lower elders are mainly responsible for protecting the Elven Mother Tree and the baptism of the Holy Descendants. They are independent of the other elders of the Elven race. Originally, Finney should have been the last elder in charge of the baptism, but due to some events, Finney refused the job, and the responsibility was passed on to the second elder.
Finney sighed inwardly. He had been utterly disappointed these past few days, but he never expected that an even bigger surprise awaited him.
He glared at the Elf King, who was essentially his younger brother, and said, "The Land of Fallen Gods is a private prison belonging only to His Holiness the Pope. It has existed since the founding of the Church. That elf was probably the first one to go in."
Belongs only to the Pope?!
The Elf King's face turned deathly pale this time, and his lips trembled as he asked, "Then, how did that elf manage to alarm the Pope?"
Garcia then slowly interjected, "Your Majesty the Elf King, this is nothing. You should think about who the cardinal who appeared on the outskirts last night really was."
The Elf King's mind was in complete confusion, and upon hearing this, he stupidly replied, "Who is it?"
Clark couldn't help but laugh, winking at Finney as if to say, "Look at your good little brother."
Finney turned his head away, refusing to meet Clark's gaze.
Garcia, in a fit of kindness, said: "First of all, the only people I can think of who could get His Holiness the Pope's permission to enter the private prison are Lord Uther and His Holiness the Holy Son. Lord Uther would not leave the capital, so it couldn't be Lord Uther."
"Secondly, His Holiness the Holy Son is currently out and has no time to concern himself with the affairs of the Elven race. Moreover, why would His Holiness the Holy Son go to such lengths to use his status as a cardinal?"
Clark chimed in, drawing out his words: "So—that one is of course—"
"Enough!" Finney raised his voice to interrupt the two who were singing in unison. "Lord Orlando has graced us with his presence, and we didn't even notice. Go back and apologize!"
He stood up, strode out, and his anger was palpable in his back.
"He's angry." Clark watched Finney leave.
Garcia chuckled, "How embarrassing. Luckily, my nephews aren't that embarrassing."
Clark turned and teased him, "How much better can you be? Didn't that prince say he only wanted Lord Orlando as his teacher?"
Garcia pursed his lips and remained silent.
The Elf King slumped in his seat, as if his soul had been ripped away.
Two massive mages also stood up. Clark yawned, "Alright, we need to go interrogate the elders now. Your Majesty the Elf King, please rest well."
The Land of Fallen Gods—judging from its name, it's no ordinary prison.
Beneath the Great Vatican lies the Execution Department, which holds all sorts of prisoners, most of whom are criminals sentenced to death for murder, robbery, assault, defamation, excessive violence, and other crimes.
The capital city is vast, with the Lortheran Palace located on the eastern side, where the king and members of the royal family reside, and where daily court meetings are held.
Near the southern edge of the city lies the Grand Papacy, an area comparable in size to the Royal Palace of Lortheran. Every day, it receives pilgrims from all corners of the continent of Icarus, who travel great distances to hear the sacred pronouncements of the Grand Papacy in steadfast devotion to the beings they believe in.
The Royal Capital Academy is located on the outskirts of the capital, dozens of miles from the nearest city gate. However, the academy's area is comparable to most of the capital. On the other side, it borders the Central Mountain Range and most of the Central Forest, serving as the Royal Capital Academy's training ground. Of course, it does not refuse entry to other adventurers.
This is a magnificent and beautiful architectural complex.
The pointed arches stand at the four corners of the Papacy, but there are no walls around them. The serrated, carved eaves are adorned with exquisite shrines designed by master architects. After hundreds of years of wind and rain, the beautiful carvings have become somewhat blurred, but this does not diminish their sacredness.
The shrines are arranged on the roof, and a tall church can be seen from each of the pointed arches.
People often pray here, admire the huge statue of the Pope, and the giant round window is also decorated with beautiful and intricate patterns. Children from the choir often play here; the notes they play may be unpolished, but they are pure and innocent.
If you go inside the Papacy, you will see a large area of buildings that are slightly shorter than the outer cathedral. The eleven archbishops, the Son of God, the cardinals, and some priests all live here.
The Pope's residence is also here, but this being, who has lived for countless years, has not shown his face for a long time.
In the silent corridor, a giant round window almost touched the ground, letting in a large amount of light. On the walls on both sides of the window, statues protruded, their surfaces completely free of dust.
A gaunt figure slowly walked from the other end.
He was dressed in a solemn and serious black robe, with a faint smell of blood still lingering on him. His long hair was loose, and the hair on his forehead had covered his eyebrows and eyes. His lips were as thin as his body, and they were taut at the moment. There was a noticeable black round nail on his chin, and there were faint suture marks on the left side of his face. From any perspective, he had nothing to do with a compassionate and solemn archbishop.
But he was indeed the most powerful one in the bishopric.
Uther, a reclusive and powerful magician.
The light streaming through the round window cast his long shadow on the wall.
His shadow disappeared as I passed by the statue.
He walked through several rooms, and gradually, the other side of the corridor completely transformed into a wall of statues. His shadow was no longer cast, and a layer of gloom enveloped him.
Finally, the corridor came to an end, and he stood in front of a tightly closed door.
He took a deep breath, raised his equally thin hand, which seemed to be just skin covering bones, and gently knocked on the door.
There was no response.
He was already drenched in sweat, and his hand, having lost its courage, slowly withdrew.
Just as he was struggling with this decision, he heard footsteps behind him.
He turned around, pursed his thin lips, and called out in a low voice, "Your Majesty the Holy Son."
The newcomer was none other than the Holy Son, Sylvain, dressed in an elaborate robe.
His silver hair was half-tied up, and his young, handsome face showed no expression.
Sylvain glanced at him and said, “Lord Uther, the new spellbook has been revised. You should have Copperfield come back to prepare for its release.”
Uther paused for a moment, then replied, "I understand."
At this moment, he should have left, but he still turned his head reluctantly, his eyes, hidden beneath his thick bangs, filled with disappointment: "Lord Orlando..."
“He’s only back temporarily; he’ll be leaving soon,” Sylvain said coldly.
Uther was taken aback. Was it only temporary?
"When will he leave?"
Sylvain turned his head, looked at the closed door, and said calmly, "Perhaps he was already gone while we were talking."
Uther's face suddenly turned pale.
The Pope was unaware of the conversation that took place in front of his room. After a short rest, he returned to Mercury's attic.
Carlo is still asleep; Sylvain has left, along with the new spellbook they've been revising together these past few days.
He glanced at the sleeping boy; normally, Carlos wouldn't wake up until tomorrow.
Thinking about the unfinished score, Veris sat down in the yard with a violin, adjusted the strings, and found that the violin's tone was not as good as before, perhaps because of its age.
Veris, who had originally planned to compose a musical score, held the violin, hesitated for a while, and then decided to repair it first.
He got up and walked into the house.
He didn't know how to do this at first, but after wandering around outside for a while, he learned how, since there aren't always craftsmen who can repair musical instruments in some places.
The violin in his hand didn't have as many strings as the lute, and it was easy to repair, but after he thought he had fixed it and started playing it again, Veris always felt that something was wrong.
He couldn't quite put his finger on where this strange feeling came from, even though the piano had already been repaired.
The pale fingertips produced syllables intermittently as the young man lowered his head in deep thought.
“If the string is too taut, the sound will change.” The boy’s voice suddenly rang out. Veris paused, looked up at the blonde elf walking from the direction of the guest room, and raised an eyebrow.
He raised his hand to touch the strings and quickly realized that the boy was right; the strings were too taut.
“You woke up earlier than I expected,” he said, looking at the elf standing not far away.
Carlo pursed his lips and looked down at his hands. The hands were a completely different color from what he was used to, and his entire body lacked the weakness he had felt from years of hunger.
His hands had healthy pinkish-white skin, and his nails were round and shiny. From head to toe, one could not tell that he had once been an ordinary human boy.
Pointy elf ears peek out from her golden curls, and her eyes are light green, with a hint of gold in them.
Veris put his harp aside and smiled, "Now that you're awake, I'll take you back to the Elven realm."
Carlo looked up and stared intently at Veris: "Is there anything you need me to do?"
Upon hearing Carlo's words, Veris actually thought about it for a moment. He had originally only thought of letting Carlo take charge of the Elven race and then strengthening his control over the Elven race through Carlo.
However, he immediately remembered his original intention in rescuing Carlo.
He felt that Carlo would become a member of the Hero Squad in the future.
Thinking of this, Veris's brows relaxed, and he said, "You should go back to the Elven realm and spend this winter there. Next spring, when the new students enroll at the Royal Academy, I hope you can go."
However, considering that the elves deeply resent leaving the location of the Elven Mother Tree, and that very few elves have gone to study at the Royal Academy over the years, and those who have gone are all arrogant, Veris added, "Training at the Royal Academy is much more useful than staying in the Elven Forest. I think you will have a time there that you won't regret."
“You can trust Elder Finney of the Elven race.”
As Veris spoke, he stretched out his hand, and a magic circle, only the size of his head, began to spin.
Without needing any magical artifacts, a simple communication spell was enough to precisely locate Finney across half of the Icarus continent.
Magic was quickly infused into the other end, and Finney's respectful voice rang out: "Lord Orlando."
“The Holy One has awakened. I’ll send him over now. By the way, Clark and Garcia are still with the elves, aren’t they?”
Finney glanced at his two colleagues beside him, who were stuffing various fruits into their mouths, and said in the same tone, "Yes."
Upon hearing a familiar voice, both of them pricked up their ears, wanting to say something, but their mouths were stuffed with fruit, so they could only gesture with their hands.
Finney looked away, choosing to ignore it.
“There are other things involved in this matter, so you don’t need to investigate too thoroughly. There are some things you can’t access,” Veris said slowly. He looked at Carlo over there, and with his other hand, he drew a circle in the air, and immediately a huge magic circle appeared.
Carlo's eyes reflected the approaching magic circle, his body tensing slightly. As the magic circle's patterns drew near, he felt a terrifying power enveloping him, and the surrounding space began to shift.
He was still staring at Veris, who was sitting with his legs crossed, talking.
“I’ve taken away the biggest trouble. All you need to do is figure out why they did it. Leave the rest to the new king of the elves.”
Upon hearing this, Carlo's surroundings were completely transformed. He stood frozen in place, too afraid to move. In the darkness, only the magic circle beneath his feet was spinning rapidly.
What powerful magic! Was that person really just an ordinary church member?
...The new king of the elves.
He clenched his fists, his brows furrowing slightly. He chewed on the words "Royal Capital Academy" several times, silently keeping them in his heart.
Soon, the light filled the area around his eyes, stimulating his optic nerves, and he had to close his eyes.
The air changed, becoming as fresh as if running in the wild, and the sounds of conversation flowed into the brain continuously. The body of the elven saint sent out joyful signals, as if returning to the embrace of a mother.
The elven boy slowly opened his eyes, and what came into view was a huge tree.
Green fluorescent light entwines the tree, which has an enormous canopy with vines hanging down. Beneath the tree is a circular pool filled with a pale golden liquid that ripples gently.
In that instant, he seemed to hear the sound of the Elf Mother Tree weeping with joy.
But soon, he also heard a distinct... chewing sound.
Carlo turned around and looked at two fat men sitting not far away, each holding a large fruit and eating it, and a guy who was obviously an elf, standing expressionlessly next to the two fat men.
Seeing him looking over, she raised her chin and said, "Welcome to the Elven race, Your Highness, Holy Descendant."
Finney walked over and stood beside Carlo. Looking up at the towering Elven Mother Tree, he said calmly, "Lord Orlando has already told you, hasn't he? After being cursed, you are no longer a pure-blooded elf, but all the Elven Kings throughout history have been pure-blooded elves."
“You are recognized as a holy descendant by the Elf Mother Tree, but in the future, there will be no shortage of voices within the tribe opposing you because of your bloodline.”
He turned his head and stared intently at Carlo: "I will ensure your safety until you fully mature, but whether you can become the next king depends entirely on yourself."
Clark's nonchalant voice came from behind: "Come on, Finney, how many elves do you think can detect the abnormality in his bloodline?"
Garcia gloated: "Don't overestimate your own kind."
Clark: "The fact that the elves can produce a Finney is probably a manifestation of the progenitor elves."
Clark continued, "Actually, your secluded tribe is quite good, I'm serious."
Finney turned around, gritting her teeth: "Can't even food shut you up?"
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Author's Note: These two old foodies have maxed out their taunting skills.
Bishops' daily infighting (1/1)
A new character has appeared: Uther, a top-3 mage and a fanatic.
The Mercury arc has ended, and the next arc, the Royal Capital Academy arc, is about to begin!
[The Seven Mysteries, Part 11]
Every generation of Lortheran crown princes has been a student of Veris, including Garcia.
Garcia's father was obsessed with beautiful women, and he was always indecisive about choosing a crown prince. The first crown prince was murdered before he could be sent to the Papacy.
When Garcia becomes crown prince, he will be the oldest of all the crown prince students in Veris's history.
When Crown Prince Garcia first met Veris, he asked Veris if he wanted to go for a drink with prostitutes.
Note: This is a version for the palace's own amusement.
Then, Veris, with a forced smile, hung him up and whipped him for three days and three nights until he became detached from worldly desires and developed some strange attribute, and then he had a sudden enlightenment.
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