She quickly searched through her memories, but found no recollection of the old man before her.
The notion of having met him before simply did not exist.
One possibility remained: the old man had seen her, though she had not seen him.
Such an encounter wasn’t one she would typically have during a casual outing, leading her thoughts to the funeral of most of the abbey’s members.
At the time, she had been preoccupied with fending off Dr. Callan’s persistent prodding, and, being averse to trouble, had neglected to greet any of the funeral attendees.
This, she now realized, had been remarkably impolite.
****
“It’s perfectly normal that you don’t recognize me,” the old man continued. “You departed the funeral before I had a chance to introduce myself.”
The old man then introduced himself.
“Diliwo-Gomor,” he stated. “That is my name.”
“Konehl-Ghervil,” she replied.
Konehl-Ghervil cast a subtle glance at Ramsey, silently chiding him for his lack of foresight; now, she had no choice but to plunge ahead.
“Please forgive my discourtesy at the time,” she began, “it was not intentional…”
“You misunderstand,” he interjected, a gentle wave of his hand dismissing her apology. “I bear no ill will. I merely felt a touch of regret at not having had the opportunity to speak with the abbey’s sole heir. Now, that regret has vanished with your presence.”
The old man then turned his gaze to Ramsey.
“For this, I must thank the agent.”
“That’s an exaggeration,” Konehl-Ghervil demurred, a slight flush rising to her cheeks. “Anyone can speak with me if they wish.”
She felt a hint of embarrassment, yet acknowledged that the bishop had elevated her status, granting her considerable respect.
“If my eyes do not deceive me,” he said, turning his attention to Esli, “this person must be a valiant knight.”
“Indeed,” Konehl-Ghervil confirmed, elaborating, “this is my friend, Ishmele-Esli.”
“Hello, Bishop Gomor,” Esli greeted, her voice brimming with enthusiastic curiosity. “Can you not see with this eye?”
Esli, ever eager and inquisitive, widened her eyes, openly scrutinizing the old man’s right eye.
‘This utter imbecile!’
Konehl-Ghervil’s mind reeled, her mouth parting in a gasp, but it was already too late to intervene.
Esli had already pressed closer.
Konehl-Ghervil should have anticipated this; Esli’s occasional lack of etiquette had been evident from their very first meeting.
This included, but was not limited to, stirring up trouble, presumptuously claiming Konehl-Ghervil as her friend to solve problems, and openly expressing distaste for Konehl-Ghervil’s “pet,” Govet-Ghervil, in front of its owner, declaring she didn’t want to touch it.
Glancing at Ramsey, standing nearby, Konehl-Ghervil was startled to find an expression of approval in his eyes.
‘Perhaps this fellow deliberately orchestrated this entire spectacle.’
“Hahahaha, my judgment is indeed sound,” Bishop Gomor boomed, adopting the benevolent tone of an elder, laced with a hint of jest. “A knight should be precisely this way. Frankness and courage are truly noble virtues, and it is precisely these qualities that allow you to withstand the trials of the plague.”
The Bishop maintained his elder statesman demeanor, patiently speaking in a slightly teasing manner.
“It’s nothing unspeakable, though perhaps more mundane than you imagine. My right eye was blinded by the plague many years ago. It’s as simple as that.”
“It does sound rather mundane,” Esli remarked, another thoughtless comment escaping her lips, “but that doesn’t diminish the eye’s intricate detail. It’s truly difficult to tell it’s fake without a closer look.”
Having uttered yet another thoughtless remark, Esli retreated to Konehl-Ghervil’s left side and whispered,
“You haven’t introduced your pet yet, have you?”
Her voice, while intended as a whisper, was just loud enough for everyone present to hear.
Konehl-Ghervil instinctively shied away from the furry ball perched on her right shoulder.
This subconscious gesture clearly indicated her lingering aversion to Govet-Ghervil, a creature of the rodent family.
Konehl-Ghervil found herself at a loss for words.
She needed to find time to properly educate the female knight on the distinctions between the Hystricomorpha (chinchilla family) and the Myomorpha (mouse family).
To put it plainly, Govet-Ghervil was more closely related to a porcupine than to a sewer rat.
‘That’s logically sound… but why does it feel like I’m insulting myself?’
“She… she is my pet,” Konehl-Ghervil stammered, “Her name is Govet-Ghervil.”
She managed an awkward smile, hesitant to offer too many details.
A bishop in a major city was not someone whose capabilities could be underestimated.
Lying would only create loopholes and invite suspicion.
The best approach was to say as little as possible.
After a brief, assessing glance, Bishop Gomor asked no further questions about this “pet.”
With that, the introductions were complete.
****
It was at this juncture that Ramsey stepped forward to explain their purpose.
Having read the letter and grasped the general situation, the Bishop expressed his pleasure that Ramsey had enlisted such a capable assistant, promising to help Konehl-Ghervil conceal her identity until the case concluded.
“According to the intelligence I’ve received,” Bishop Gomor began, “the higher-ups will be dispatching a Chief Doctor. The investigation will proceed with our local doctors assisting her, though I am unaware of the exact arrival time or the specific Chief Doctor assigned; their movements are always kept confidential.”
Konehl-Ghervil nodded, signifying her understanding.
In larger cities, the Department of Hospitals maintained stationed branches.
Their rank would not exceed that of a bishop, and they would, to some extent, defer to the local bishop’s directives.
A Chief Doctor, however, held a rank equivalent to a bishop, and their deployment was typically authorized by the Director of the Saint Eleusius Benevolence Institute.
What Konehl-Ghervil did not know was whether the Director of the Benevolence Institute was appointed by the Pope; if so, the Department of Hospitals might wield more power than she currently imagined.
“Truthfully, I wouldn’t advise this course of action,” Bishop Gomor queried, turning to her. “Concealing your identity from others is simple enough, but it will prove somewhat challenging with the Department of Hospitals. It’s highly unlikely they would permit an individual of unknown origins to join an investigation. If it’s not too much trouble, might you enlighten me as to your reasons?”
‘Reasons such as fearing a salary deduction for being caught red-handed, or needing someone to calm down, were, of course, impossible to voice.’
She deliberately avoided mentioning that she only needed to hide from the Department of Hospitals, instead stating a broader scope: the parties involved in the case and the investigators.
“Because of the Royal Family.”
Konehl-Ghervil surveyed the side corridor; finding no one else present, she spoke with utmost seriousness.
“I have come to this city because of certain restrictions the Royal Family has placed upon both myself and the abbey.”
This was, in fact, the truth. Had the Royal Family not deposited such a substantial sum into her bank account, she would have lacked the capital to acquire the Blood Rose.
Traveling to Florence City required additional consideration, especially since she hadn’t initially known it was a potential plea for help.
‘She could only blame that utterly incompetent Vitz V.’
When the Royal Family was involved, most people would hesitate, almost without exception.
A degree of solemnity settled upon Bishop Gomor’s usually benevolent face.
“I can vouch for that; I only came because I received orders…”
Realizing her blunder, Esli immediately cut herself off and fell silent.
Her words undoubtedly intensified the atmosphere in the room.
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”
For once, Ramsey struggled to maintain his composure.
He had originally intended for the nun to conduct the investigation in his stead. Since it didn’t involve an epidemic, the Epidemic Prevention Bureau’s personnel were difficult to mobilize, and at best, could only gather clues from behind the scenes.
Now, however, it seemed he had been thoroughly ensnared.
“Because you didn’t ask?”
Konehl-Ghervil responded with an interrogative tone.
“Oh… I should have known things wouldn’t be so simple,” Ramsey sighed in resignation. “Konehl-Ghervil, you’ve really put me in a bind this time.”
Ramsey had clearly given up hope.
“Is it too late now to claim I slept straight through until evening yesterday and didn’t hear the knock at the door?”
“If the Royal Family sends people later, I can relay that exact message for you,” Konehl-Ghervil offered with a smile, spreading her hands.
‘Having boarded the pirate ship, did he truly think he could escape? No chance.’
Esli’s slip of the tongue only solidified Konehl-Ghervil’s conviction that the Royal Family was indeed orchestrating matters from behind the scenes.
“This incident should not be significant enough to alarm the Royal Family…”
Bishop Gomor’s brow furrowed deeply, his right eye, dark as obsidian, closed independently while his left remained open.
Konehl-Ghervil watched this scene with a peculiar sensation, realizing the old man before her was sleeping with one eye open.
A moment later, his obsidian right eye opened, and his expression relaxed.
“Come with me, Sister Konehl-Ghervil,” he said, “I have found a way to conceal your identity.”