Chapter 21 Bishop
The other man looked at him, and his expression suddenly softened.
"...Yes, you still have me." He said softly, standing in the dark crowd. The wind blew through the scorching sun, rustling the leaves.
"But you could... use me a little longer."
The professor adjusted the brim of his hood and glanced up at him.
"All right, Mr. Wizard," he said, "give me a 'loud voice.'"
The former Savior of the Silver Iris Empire certainly didn't recognize the Scar-Headed Savior, nor did he understand what a wizard was or what a "loud voice" meant - but he could still understand it in the literal sense.
The noisy and chaotic roars, scolding and screams of the crowd gradually turned into one voice, and soon condensed into a uniform and rhythmic slogan.
"What does Fishtail Street want?"
"—The air is free, breathing is guiltless!"
The roar was so resounding that it rattled the windows of the Public Security Bureau. Residents in the distance leaned out of their windows to peer in. What was happening? They whispered to each other, and many brave residents joined the crowd, the furious procession growing larger and larger.
Azuka glanced at the black-haired young man beside him with an unfathomable expression. The man had his lips tightly shut and his expression was indifferent. There was no sign that the accent he just spoke was exactly the same as the people around him. If you closed your eyes and listened, you could tell that he was a fisherman who had grown up in this land for decades.
"...this bunch of dirty, lowly and unruly people!"
Nite Saman stood in front of the window of the office on the third floor and gritted his teeth. With such a loud noise, anyone who was not deaf would know what was happening here.
"Hasn't the magic light cannon been brought over yet?" He yelled at his subordinates angrily.
"Reporting to the Director, we're already urging them to arrive! But it will take some time to transport it..."
"Waste!" He kicked his subordinate angrily, and regardless of the fact that the other party was lying on the ground holding his stomach and gasping for breath, he picked up the telescope and observed the situation carefully. His face, which was covered with oil and sweat, suddenly showed an expression of panic.
"Wait! That's..."
At the Sheriff's Office, the sheriffs standing in front of the angry crowd were in a state of agony. They wanted to shoot, but no matter who they aimed, the enemy showed no fear. It felt like if they fired, the people around them would rush over with their weapons and tear them to pieces. Finally, one of the younger sheriffs couldn't stand it anymore. He pointed at the crowd and was about to pull the trigger, but for some reason, the trigger wouldn't go down, as if it was stuck.
"The light shines brightly."
At this moment, an elegant and low voice pierced the crowd, and then the sheriff's eyes were suddenly covered by a dazzling bright light, which immediately shocked him so much that he subconsciously dropped his gun and covered his eyes with his hands, wailing.
The people on Fishtail Street and the sheriff were completely trapped in a huge and dazzling ball of light, with screams of terror. Azuka, who had just stopped the sheriff from shooting, frowned, quickly covered the eyes of the professor beside him, and squinted his eyes to stare at the golden figure that suddenly appeared at the end of the street.
The man standing in the front wore a silk robe predominantly gold and white, embellished with various gemstones. The hem of the robe was embroidered with elegant, blooming golden lilies, and a cape adorned with crossed spears. The other man wore a golden miter and held an ornate scepter. He had a handsome face and a pair of gentle yet dignified green eyes.
Azuka recognized the other party's identity - one of the five cardinals of the Glorious Church and the youngest cardinal, Pavaton Miller. A few years later, he was one of the most competitive candidates for Pope.
There were about a dozen people behind Bishop Miller, most of whom were priests of the Glowing Church. At this moment, they were frowning at the chaotic crowd that was falling down and groaning after the ball of light disappeared, but because the cardinal did not speak, no one dared to express their opinions.
Nite Saman almost fell down the stairs, and when he saw that the cardinal was standing next to the Saman family head with a grim expression, he almost fainted.
"My God of Light," he forced a flattering smile, "What a great honor to be here, Mr. Miller! How did you feel like coming here—"
Then he saw the head of the Saman family silently squeeze out a few words at him through his teeth: "Shut up, idiot."
"The light is with you and me." Bishop Miller nodded gracefully. "What's going on here? I heard someone shouting... free air, no guilt in breathing?"
Nit Saman stammered, beads of sweat oozing from his forehead. At this point, using those clumsy excuses of a pirate was simply teasing him. The Saman family head would tear him apart.
"They are just a group of civilians instigated by people with ulterior motives. Your Excellency, please do not worry about it. The Saman family will definitely resolve it satisfactorily." After glaring at Nite Saman, Butterfield Saman turned his gaze back to the group of civilians who were huddled together and hesitated to move forward after seeing the priests of the Church of Light, and frowned in disgust.
It's really... an eyesore.
The Cardinal pondered, "Someone with ulterior motives? Your Excellency Saman, is there any trace of the Shadow Chaser in your fiefdom?"
The Shadow Chasers are a rebel organization that has recently emerged in the Silver Iris Empire. They hide among the people and like to go against the local nobles and the Church. They are elusive and very difficult to deal with.
Butterfield Samman was immediately shocked. "Wha, no, no, no, Lord Miller, how could such a blasphemous thing exist in my fiefdom! Previously, in order to hold the Dawn Celebration, we charged the Chamber of Commerce a small fee for waste disposal. As a result, these foolish civilians must have been deceived by those greedy businessmen and mistakenly thought that we were taxing the air, so they came to protest - why would we tax the air?"
"wrong!"
A voice suddenly boomed from the crowd. Seeing the nobles and bishops, whom he had never seen before, looking at him, the young fisherman flinched a little, but still mustered up the courage to step forward. "The sheriff came to our Fishtail Street and said there's a terrible smell, a fishy stench, and he wants to collect a hefty air pollution tax. My dear sirs, we all make a living by fishing. How can our homes not smell of fish?"
"Yeah, that's right."
“This is too much!”
Gradually, there were scattered voices of support around him.
"Lies! These untouchables don't tell a single truth!" Nit Saman, eager to redeem himself for his crime, immediately jumped out. "Your Excellencies, it's well known that these fishermen have the dirty blood of pirates flowing through their veins. They're best at stealing and cheating. How could you believe the words of such a group of people?"
The nearby fishermen and pirates do have the same origin to some extent - some fishermen who can't make a living or are lazy and have bad character will join pirate groups, transform themselves, and make a living by robbing merchant ships or fishing boats by relying on their familiarity with nearby routes.
"I'm not a pirate!" The young fisherman's face flushed red. "I'm a legitimate businessman!"
Nit Saman sneered, "Okay, you say the sheriff came to collect taxes from you. What evidence do you have? Eyewitnesses don't count. Can you all swear before the sea gods that there isn't a single pirate among your three generations of family, neighbors, friends, or friends of friends?"
The other party was speechless and stammered with his mouth open.
Nite Samman won a great victory. He looked at the young man coldly and secretly memorized his face.
"So this guy is just lying, and the others are probably stupid enough to be fooled - Sheriff! Arrest him!" Butterfield Samman concluded.
He bowed his head to Bishop Miller again and said, "Your Excellency, I'm truly sorry to have caused you such a farce. How about we leave here? There's a kind of deep-sea shellfish in Huiqiao Port that is delicious and extremely precious, rarely seen anywhere else..."
A silent voice interrupted him.
"Excuse me, am I qualified to be a witness?"
“You are…?”
Bishop Miller looked at the tall young man in an old cloak with a hood covering most of his face with some surprise. One of the followers standing respectfully behind him suddenly raised his head and stared at the newcomer in shock.
“…cousin?”
"Nova Brody, son of Viscount Edmund Brody. Hail to you, Dustless Light."
"The Immaculate Light" is the title given to this cardinal by believers.
The man lifted his hood, revealing a pale, impassive face. His striking smoky-gray eyes met the cardinal's green with a calm composure. Despite his disastrous attire, he remained erect and graceful, displaying none of the deferential or awkwardness expected of a young man in the presence of a superior.
"Brody..." Bishop Miller pondered for a moment, then smiled and tilted his head and asked, "I remember there was a Mr. Brody among the students who were attending?"
The priest bowed his head respectfully. "Yes, sir, Mr. Percy Brody, the head of the second grade at St. Bartholomew's School of Warlocks, is one of the students here to serve."
Being an attendant means that some outstanding students have the opportunity to come into contact with powerful figures of the Glorious Church and listen to their teachings, which can also be considered a reward.
"Oh, he is indeed a young genius." Bishop Miller nodded noncommittally. "Mr. Brody, this coincidence is really wonderful, isn't it?"
Despite having the long-awaited opportunity to speak with the Cardinal, Percy Brody's expression remained grim. He lowered his head, trying to hide his strange expression. "Yes, Your Excellency... I never expected to meet my cousin here."
Butterfield Samman quickly realized what was happening. He chewed on the last name and asked playfully, "So, Mr. Brody... what do you want to prove?"
Nova noticed the fingers of the person next to him moving. He frowned and quickly grabbed the other person's hand under the cover of his cloak.
Don't be impulsive, he wrote lightly on the man's palm.
He understood the urgency of revenge against their genocide, their immediate enemy. Even though this fellow had managed to blind the Cardinal and a dozen nobles and priests, unable to even see a single, radiant, living being, this had given him a newfound appreciation for the power of his "little tricks"—but acting now was not a wise choice.
The author has something to say:
Loud voice (swear loudly), a spell from Harry Potter.
Actually, the professor can make jokes, but it is easy for him to become silent (deep).
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