"Of course. We will continue to assist the First Prince until he safely ascends the throne." The Third Deacon bowed slightly, a chilling glint flickering in his cloudy eyes.
"You may leave," Lucia said, waving them off. He stared blankly toward the entrance, his thoughts unreadable.
"As you wish." The Deacon performed a formal salute and led his knights out of the main hall.
Clack, clack, clack...
The Third Deacon strolled through the palace grounds toward the exit, his aged face etched with calculation.
"Deacon, shall we initiate the plan tomorrow?" The lead knight behind him asked.
"I must consult with Bishop Venice first," The Deacon replied, shaking his head.
"Understood," The knight said respectfully.
"By the way, that beastkin named Jones—send men to capture her. The First Prince isn't keen on letting her roam free," The Deacon ordered casually.
"I understand. I will personally oversee the investigation," The knight nodded.
The group exited the palace and arrived at a luxurious estate: the mansion of a Marquis.
Creak—
Only the Third Deacon entered, leaving the knights to guard the entrance. In the past, he wouldn't have dared to enter a Marquis's home so brazenly—after all, the Marquis was one of Creed's most vital pawns. But things were different now; Lucia had become utterly dependent on them.
Led by a maid into a study, the Deacon waited as she withdrew.
"You're here." In the study sat a man around seventy years old. He looked to be in the twilight of his life; his skin sagged heavily, his eyes were clouded, and he wore a red robe trimmed with gold thread.
This was Bishop Venice, one of the core figures who had recently arrived in the capital to oversee the final stages of their grand plan.
The bishops sat at the pinnacle of the Luminous Creed's power structure. There were four in total, led by the Great Bishop. Venice was the fourth-ranked among them. Directly beneath the bishops were the Twelve Deacons—the inner circle of the Creed.
"Bishop Venice." The Third Deacon slowly knelt, touching his forehead to the floor in a grand gesture of reverence.
"Rise," Venice said, waving a hand with visible effort.
"Yes," The Deacon rose respectfully.
"How is the plan progressing?" Venice asked indifferently, his eyes shifting slightly.
"Lucia has agreed. We can open the cathedrals tomorrow," The Deacon said, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Excellent. Finally, the brilliance of the Divine Lord shall illuminate this world." Venice's eyes lit up with a spark of excitement. This was a goal they had spent over thirty years planning for; now, it was finally beginning. Establishing cathedrals with the recognition of the future king was the only way to ensure the commoners truly believed.
"The Divine Lord will bless you, my Lord," The Deacon said fervently.
"Yes, and the Divine Lord shall shine upon you as well," Venice responded in a high-pitched tone. He then took several deep breaths, trying to steady himself; he was too old to handle such strong emotions.
"Bishop, shall we waive the fees for followers joining the faith?" The Deacon asked curiously.
"Initially, yes. Our priority is to grow the flock," Venice shook his head and spoke softly. "In fact, give the first batch of followers a few coins. Let them go out and recruit their acquaintances. Once we have the people, we will never lack coins."
"I see," The Deacon realized.
"And the Amos Notes? Has it been found?" Venice asked, his brow furrowing. They had originally leaked the notes to stir up chaos and lure people into searching for the "Divine Kingdom."
"No. Since the disappearance of it in Pentos City, there has been no news," The Deacon admitted, lowering his head.
"Increase the effort. The Great Bishop is watching this matter closely," Venice said grimly.
His time was running out. If they couldn't find the Divine Kingdom—the land of the gods where he might take up residence—he would soon face death. He didn't want to die; he wanted longevity. He had only just begun to truly enjoy his power.
"Understood. I will mobilize the bounty hunters. I'll set a reward of a thousand gold coins," The Deacon said through gritted teeth. The notes were supposed to be a lure to get others to do the dangerous adventuring so they could reap the rewards. Now, the lure itself has vanished.
"What of the other two princes?" Venice asked.
"The Second Prince fled to the East to build his strength," The Deacon replied immediately. "The Fourth Prince went to the West. That place is a desolate wasteland; he is no threat."
"Start reducing the amount of intelligence we give to Lucia. Create some trouble for him. Don't let things go too smoothly; we need those brothers to keep fighting," Venice advised coolly. "A quick unification does us no favors."
"Bishop, Lucia seems to be somewhat wary of us," The Deacon noted.
"Let him be. As long as he needs us, he cannot discard us," Venice dismissed the concern. "If it were that old fox, we might need to be cautious. But this little brat is too green. He thinks too much of himself."
"He is indeed arrogant," The Deacon agreed.
Lucia had only been able to drive the Second Prince out so quickly because the Creed had thrown its weight behind him; many of the nobles in his camp were actually part of Creed's faction.
"A puppet king is quite useful," Venice said indifferently.
"Give me a little more time, and I can completely hollow out his authority," The Deacon added with a cold smile.
"If he stops being obedient, we'll just replace him." Venice remarked, as if he were discussing a trivial errand.
"Understood."
"Go and prepare," Venice waved him away. He was tired; he needed rest to ensure he lived just a little bit longer.
"Yes, My Lord." The Deacon backed out of the room.
Creak—
As the door closed, Venice narrowed his eyes in thought, whispering to the empty room, "Theocracy is the supreme power."
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