The Grand Temple’s interior seemed precisely the kind of place where one could easily get lost if venturing alone.
Had Hereis not been by his side, Jeha would have felt like a lost child.
After a considerable walk, they finally reached a colossal door, adorned with gold and jewels.
Fully armored paladins stood guard before it, imposing and unmoving.
Bishop Irellio and his retinue, who were ahead, paused before the door, meticulously adjusting their attire.
Jeha, following suit, lowered his gaze to check if his own clothes were disheveled.
His heart quickened slightly.
He was intensely curious about the Pope’s true nature.
If the Pope, the head of the Grand Temple, were truly a righteous man, Hereis would never have fallen so deeply into darkness.
But what if, against all odds, the Pope *was* a decent human being? What then?
His ponderings were cut short.
Slowly, silently, the massive golden doors began to part.
As the scene beyond the open doors came into view, Jeha nearly clapped his hands or let out a whistle.
It was an enormous reception hall, grand and opulent.
Straight ahead, a red-carpeted dais rose, upon which sat a single chair, glittering with golden and jeweled adornments.
An old man, clad in ceremonial robes and a towering mitre, occupied the seat; he was, presumably, the Pope.
On either side, below the Pope, rows of priests stood in attendance.
Each held scrolls, pens, or books, seemingly in the midst of delivering reports.
“Archbishop Hereis and Marquis Belgarga!”
A priest by the door announced loudly, drawing all eyes within the hall to the entrance.
Jeha, feeling a slight tremor of nervousness, thought, ‘Surely, even the Pope wouldn’t recognize me as the Demon King.’
Bishop Irellio stepped forward briefly before veering off to merge with the other priests.
An exquisitely rich red carpet stretched from the entrance all the way to the Pope’s dais, a display of luxury that would scarcely be surpassed even for an imperial audience.
Walking alongside Hereis towards the Pope, Jeha strove to remain unswayed by the overwhelming atmosphere.
Hereis halted at the foot of the dais.
Having been attuned to Hereis’s pace, Jeha managed to stop almost simultaneously.
“Oh, Hereis, you have returned safely.”
The Pope spoke kindly, extending a hand adorned with several ornate rings.
Hereis ascended a few steps and respectfully pressed his lips to the Pope’s ring.
“I hope I haven’t caused you undue concern.”
Hereis straightened, his voice even.
“Your safe return is all that matters. Is it not all by divine will?”
The Pope’s gentle gaze, having spoken, now fixed upon Jeha.
“You must be Marquis Belgarga, the one who has recently stirred such commotion across the continent.”
The Pope spoke amiably, extending his hand towards Jeha.
While Irellio’s outstretched hand could be met with a handshake, the Pope’s was a different matter.
To shake his hand here would brand Jeha as the greatest fool imaginable.
Though disinclined, Jeha dutifully ascended a few steps and kissed the ring on the Pope’s finger.
“It is the honor of a lifetime to meet Your Holiness.”
Jeha uttered a suitably plausible phrase before retreating to his original position.
A faint trace of divine power emanated from the hand he had briefly touched.
However, it was so negligible that it barely warranted a scoff when compared to Hereis’s.
“I confess I was curious as to what manner of person could prompt Hereis, who is usually so discerning, to hastily leave the temple and travel such a distance to greet them.
Now, seeing you in person, indeed… you possess the dignified bearing befitting the head of an ancient marquisate.”
“Thank you.”
Instead of offering a modest reply, Jeha readily accepted the compliment.
At this, the Pope chuckled heartily once more.
His eyes met the Pope’s.
Rather than avert his gaze, Jeha smiled pleasantly as he scrutinized the pontiff.
The Pope, whose face was a roadmap of wrinkles and age spots, appeared to be at least eighty—no, surely over ninety years old.
“So, I hear you and our Hereis are quite close, are you not?”
The Pope cut straight to the heart of the matter.
His gaze, utterly devoid of any shift from its gentle, benevolent expression, remained fixed on Jeha.
Yet, Jeha instinctively knew: ‘Within that old man resided at least a million cunning serpents.’
“Yes, that is correct. To have forged a connection with a person such as Archbishop Hereis is nothing short of the merciful will of God.
I consider it a constant source of gratitude and honor.”
Jeha replied with practiced nonchalance, inwardly commending his own smooth deceit.
“Indeed. Connections forged by God are precious. I entrust Hereis into your continued care.”
“Yes, Your Holiness.”
Jeha responded with a bright smile.
The Pope chuckled once more, observing him, but this time, the laughter held a chilling undertone that sent shivers down Jeha’s spine.
****
Only after his brief audience with the Pope concluded was Jeha able to proceed to Hereis’s quarters.
Though not quite as opulent as the Pope’s chambers, Hereis’s residence was nonetheless remarkably lavish and grand.
It was essentially a self-contained manor, complete with a reception room, an office, a bedroom, and a private bath.
Once Hereis had dismissed everyone, Jeha felt at ease to explore the quarters.
The interior was decorated in a manner befitting a temple, with sacred and beautiful frescoes and paintings adorning the walls.
The furnishings, fixtures, and ornaments were all exquisite, allowing Jeha to gauge the immense prestige of an archbishop simply by observing Hereis’s personal space.
After wandering and observing for some time, Jeha finally settled onto a sofa in the reception room.
A small table before him held light refreshments and tea.
“That Pope, he may have abysmal divine power, but he certainly doesn’t seem like someone to be trifled with, does he?”
Jeha commented, sipping the tea Hereis had poured for him.
Hereis offered a faint smile and nodded.
“This Grand Temple is, in essence, the very epicenter of the Central Continent’s vast political landscape.
The position of Pope is the pinnacle among high-ranking priests from various nations, a seat one can only attain through fierce political maneuvering, material inducements, meticulous self-management, and a significant measure of luck.”
In short, he was an extraordinary individual.
“So, has the Pope fallen into corruption?”
Jeha asked without hesitation.
After all, Hereis’s heart had not merely drifted from God and the Temple; it harbored outright hatred.
There was no reason for Jeha to hold back when questioning the Pope’s integrity.
Hereis’s eyelashes fluttered downwards slightly.
Jeha openly admired the sight, finding that noble, ascetic appearance utterly captivating no matter how many times he beheld it.
He wondered what it would be like if Hereis were placed in the Pope’s seat; it would suit him remarkably well.
“His Holiness the Pope has had a long-standing mistress, with whom he has two sons and two daughters.
One of them is Bishop Peressio, whom you saw in the reception hall earlier.”
Jeha furrowed his brow, attempting to recall the faces of the priests he had seen in the reception hall.
However, having merely glanced at them indifferently, he couldn’t remember any specifics.
He did recall a few who wore particularly elaborate vestments, and presumed Peressio was one of them.
“Not only did he father children with his mistress, but he then made one of them a priest?”
Jeha asked, his face a picture of disbelief.
“That is correct. It is a fact known to all, and a fact ignored by all.”
“The Pope’s illegitimate son is a bishop? Truly astounding.
This isn’t just secret corruption; the Pope himself is openly depraved.”
At Jeha’s words, Hereis offered a bitter smile.
“If Bishop Peressio is indeed the Pope’s biological son… then he must intend to pass the papacy to his son in the next generation.”
“Had that not been his intention, he would never have made his son a priest in the first place.
However, given the Pope’s relatively humble origins from a merchant family, he hasn’t yet been able to wield significant influence, as there are many vying for the papal seat.”
“To rise from a merchant family to the papacy… he truly is an exceptional individual.”
Jeha spoke with a note of admiration.
Even becoming a bishop required the active backing of a family’s wealth and power.
To ascend to the papacy from a merchant background, then… it must have been the result of immense backroom dealings compounded by extraordinary luck.
“He certainly possesses remarkable political acumen.”
Hereis quietly assented.
Jeha idly traced the rim of his teacup and let out a soft sigh.
Given that the Pope himself openly maintained a mistress and family, it would hardly be remarkable for Hereis to acquire one.
In fact, it almost seemed peculiar for an archbishop of his standing *not* to have a mistress.
“What a bewildering world, truly.”
Jeha clicked his tongue softly, then regarded Hereis with a touch of pity.
“You must have suffered a great deal of heartache, all alone in this bewildering Grand Temple.”
At Jeha’s consolation, Hereis brought his teacup to his lips and offered a faint smile.
Leading a life of solitary integrity amidst a temple full of corrupt priests could not have been easy.
It made perfect sense that from the moment he resolved to fully engage in temple politics, he would need a powerful noble as a backer and a mistress.
Indeed, Marquis Belgarga was a fitting choice to be both Hereis’s support and his consort.
Knock, knock—
A knock echoed, and a priest entered through the partially open door.
His face etched with evident dismay, he began to speak.
“Archbishop, the Grand Knight Commander has arrived.
I informed him you were currently in an audience and requested he return shortly, but he insisted on meeting you immediately, quite adamantly…”
The priest’s voice trailed off as he cast a fleeting glance behind him.
At that very moment, a hand abruptly shot out from behind the priest, forcing the door wide open.