Chapter 22 Intermission, To Investigator Beatrice

The metal buttons were pressed, the gears engaged with the drive shafts, and the copper typefaces engraved with letters clattered on the parchment like raindrops falling from the sky.

"Beatrice, I'm sorry. I'm writing to you this time because I want to ask you to do something for me."

"What makes me feel even more guilty is that I still can't tell you too much. You know, I'm the church's secret keeper."

"But I heard that you passed the test and became an investigator... I can't describe how I felt when I heard this news. You have always been a child who likes to get to the bottom of things. If you wish, you will be closer to the truth."

"Anyway, congratulations. I've been busy with church affairs, and I promised your mother to take care of you, but I haven't done much."

"My own situation is not very good either, especially recently, they said that the method I used to execute a cultist was too extreme..."

The parchment on the mechanical typewriter reached the bottom, and a pair of hands made up of gears and various mechanical structures pulled it out and put it aside. At the same time, two other arms, also made up of mechanical structures, skillfully took out a new piece of parchment, put it into the typewriter and locked it with the buckle.

The clicking sound started again.

"They always have too many excuses, saying that I have offended the factory owners, saying that this will make the relationship between the Queen and the Church worse... No one cares about what those cultists are like."

"Damn it, how did the church become like this!"

The red hooded figure stopped typing, shook his head and sighed.

"He was an extremely dangerous cultist, and the pollution he brought was extremely horrific... But fortunately, I have executed him."

"But some workers were still contaminated. My proposal to purify them all was rejected by the church leaders. They only agreed to exile these workers."

"That's what I ask of you, Beatrice. Please monitor them for me and make sure the contamination is stopped and doesn't spread."

"They will be exiled to the border of the empire, reportedly to an island."

"Believe me, Beatrice, being away from the center of the empire is not a bad thing, especially at this time."

"I know you just became an investigator and want to go on an adventure and see the real world."

"But the dangers of this world are always beyond your expectations. Some things are even considered polluting if you speak them out."

"This is also the reason why we, the secret keepers, exist."

"In short, stay away from here, stay away from the Rhine, stay away from the territory of the empire. The queen's ambition is too big, maybe it will take the entire empire to fill it."

The fingers typing on the keyboard stopped, the priest sitting at the table stretched, and then reached for the teacup on the table.

The pale fingers grasped the teacup, which contained steaming black tea. This was a custom passed down from the New World, where people would use a cup of hot tea to relieve fatigue.

The priest took sips of the scalding hot tea. The mechanical arm behind him switched to a screwdriver amid the sound of gears turning, and expertly opened several mechanical covers on his body.

The other arm picked up the engine oil and poured it into the hole reserved under the cover.

The priest put down his teacup and continued typing on the typewriter while leaning over the table.

At the same time, the mechanical arm on his back did not stop moving at all, and was quickly maintaining the mechanical parts of his body, accurately and silently.

"Just stay on that island for a while. It's very safe there."

"Don't slack off on your duties. Keep an eye on the contaminated workers. If they show any abnormality, tell me immediately."

"If the contamination is uncontrollable, do not hesitate to implement the decontamination process immediately."

"Don't be complacent, don't hesitate, and don't be fooled by appearances. Many cultists don't look evil, and they may even be kind by nature, but this doesn't stop them from harming the world."

The priest stopped moving again. He seemed to have thought of something and was recalling quietly.

After a long time, he let out a long sigh.

Pale fingers picked up the teacup, and after taking a sip, he realized that the tea had gone cold.

He shook his head and continued typing.

The mechanical arm behind him had already lifted up his robe and started cleaning the pipes on his thighs.

His skin was sickly pale, making the metal components inlaid on it look even colder and harder.

"You don't have to worry about me. The church has arranged an administrative leave for me. I will find a beautiful place to recuperate for a while, um, to stay out of the limelight."

"I haven't decided where to go yet. Maybe I'll go to the North. It's said that there are some unique folk customs there, and some ancient relics seem to have been dug out from the ground recently."

The priest scratched the skin on his back, where the mechanical arms had already begun to clean the bolts on his spine.

"Maybe people become long-winded when they get old, but I still want to remind you of something."

“You may not understand the following things, that’s okay, just remember them, maybe there will be a moment when you will need them.”

"When you have time, you can read more doctrines, not only those of the Candlelight Society, but also the scriptures of the other four major churches. The church may conceal something, but it will not lie."

“When your mind can’t help you make a judgment, trust your intuition.”

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"Humans can be trusted. Trust humans."

"Nothing can be trusted except humans, whether it is a living being, a machine, or..."

The priest's typing fingers paused, and in the end he did not continue typing, but pulled the parchment and changed a line.

"No matter how friendly or reliable they are, don't trust them."

“Remember, the underlying color of this world is always madness.”

The mechanical arm's work seemed to be almost finished. It began to climb up the priest's neck and tightened a few screws embedded in the flesh.

The priest's letter came to an end, and he signed the last line.

"Cardinal of the Rhine Diocese, seventh-level priest of the Candlelight Society, and the 'Secret Keeper' Council..."

The priest's fingers paused, then he pulled the compression spring of the typewriter, took out the parchment stuck in the slot, crossed out the long signature, then put it back and typed the signature again.

"Your uncle Jules."

He took out the parchment, wrapped the letter paper and poured sealing wax on it. Then he took out the sealing wax seal and pressed it on the sealing wax to seal the envelope.

On the wax is a lit candle, which is the holy light of the Candlelight Society.

After finishing all this, the priest sat at the table in a trance, with the candlelight flickering beside him.

After a while, he seemed to suddenly think of something and slapped his head.

"I almost forgot about this. I'm really getting old."

As he moved, a crack appeared in the middle of his head and then split to both sides.

There was no flesh and blood inside the skull, but rather a mess of steel parts, pipes with various liquids flowing in them, and some rotating mechanical structures, all of which replaced the original brain.

The robotic arm then reached in, tightened the screws, applied engine oil, and started maintenance.

(End of this chapter)