"So, how does this work?" Konrad asked, preparing five types of defensive spells at once in case he needed them. "Force enough people to serve the Church, and you'll become the next Pope?"
'Um, I'd rather you didn't provoke him now,' Paula muttered.
The bishop scowled, too.
"What's a pope? And where did this come from?"
Right. This wasn't the same Church he knew from his previous life.
They had different ranks and organisation that Father Alastair never explained in depth.
Not like he cared, but—
"Both you and the Inquisitor had abused that poor girl," Konrad grunted, crossing his arms.
Benedictus blinked, repeating the word in disbelief.
"Abused? How? Brigida was the one coming to me."
"Right. And she told you, 'Please, blackmail me into serving you'?! A likely story."
"That's not—did the child tell you that?" The bishop turned the question around. "If you two have already spoken, why didn't you ask details?"
Hah. As if he didn't.
But even after Paula spent hours on her fragmented memories—
They didn't get much.
'Yes, exactly,' the parallel brain warned. 'Which is why you shouldn't make assumptions.'
Hah. Did he say anything wrong so far?
"Brigida told me she had lost her parents," Konrad kept grumbling. "And you threatened to destroy their new vessels unless she served you. So what did you get out of it?"
"Get out? Well, you're not wrong about the homunculi part, but—"
"What's the Church's obsession with that girl?" he demanded again. "She's a spirit user. Your Saints didn't bless her, but then—neither did they bless you or the Inquisitor, either."
Although now that he said it—
Didn't the old man look younger after his lengthy prayers?
He was still only about Yuki's size, but his deep wrinkles had smoothed out.
What if Konrad was wrong, and Benedictus even received a power-up for the next round?!
Five different barriers might not have been enough.
"You could tell, huh?" the bishop asked, forcing a smile. "Well, actual blessings are rare. But you don't have to be blessed to believe. If so, we couldn't have built a strong institution, so—"
"You have to do it with blackmail instead."
'Wow. Calm down,' Paula pleaded. 'I haven't seen anything in your memories that would justify this hostility. If anything, you're the one sounding obsessed right now.'
The old man sighed and rubbed his forehead too.
But at least he didn't summon his specter yet.
"As I said, I didn't force her. I should've destroyed those vessels. But realising how powerful an ally she could become? I offered immunity in exchange for her service, and—"
"Yeah. That's the exact definition of blackmail," Konrad pointed out, still seething.
And obsessed? No.
But even if reality had since warped, Brigida was still a child in his mind.
Strong and terrifying, sure, but a child the Church had forced into service for the second time.
Meanwhile, the bishop kept shaking his head.
"Boy, would you at least listen? The Saints need strong conviction, not abductees. I couldn't force someone to believe. But she came for my help, and—how much did she tell you, exactly?"
"Only the blackmail part," Konrad admitted, but—
'Nope. That was your assumption,' the parallel brain pointed out.
As if there was any other way to see it.
"All right. If she chose to keep secrets from you," the bishop said, "I've no right to disclose them, either. I'd rather risk animosity than betray her. But I'd never get a promotion, ever, anyway."
"What?"
Konrad blinked. Now he was the bad guy?!
"The only rank above mine is Cardinal, but as you said—the Saints never blessed me, so I can't become one. Nor do I want to; I could never become the next Saint if I did."
"S-so that's how it worked?" he scowled, trying to put the pieces together.
"Not by abducting that girl, though," the old man pointed out. "That's something only lifelong, dedicated hard work could achieve. And I'd do it for the good of the people, not myself."
"Yeah. That's not how this Church of yours has struck me so far," Konrad kept grumbling.
The bishop took a deep breath, then let it all out.
"Let me ask you something, child," he said, looking around. "The Church had raised you, too, right? And it was Father Alastair who ran this village the entire time, correct?"
Ugh. Not his brightest memories, but—
"That's right. What does it have to do with anything?"
"Well," the old man smiled. "Did he act like these abusers you're talking about?"
Oh, he had no idea.
"I've been working in the orphanage ever since I was a child," Konrad claimed. "And the old priest had taken away most of what I've earned, too. So yeah. It checks out."
"He did, huh?" the bishop said, raising an eyebrow. "How much are we talking about?"
"Ugh, as if I'd still remember the entire tally. But many golds, for sure."
"Golds, you say?" the old man noted. "Many gold coins in this tiny village? For himself, right?"
"Why, yes. I offered merchants valuable intel, handled their tolls, and they were happy to pay."
'Which you did on your own, by the way,' Paula butted in again. 'Nobody forced you, especially not that Alastair guy. So to say you worked for the Church and they exploited you is a bit—'
Uhh. At least at times like this, she could've shut up.
"Interesting," the bishop said. "Because Haiten paid no taxes to the Church, ever. The college deemed it too poor; hence we established an abbey here. But look at this place now, thriving."
"What does it have to do with—"
Hold on. Now that he thought about it?
The village had, in fact, become richer.
But how, when—he might've dealt with the merchants, but Haiten itself had nothing to offer.
The villagers didn't sell or buy anything.
And yet, the place started to develop faster and faster.
What exactly happened to the coins the corrupt priest had pocketed? Because he definitely wasn't spending them on fancy things for himself. He might've still worn the same robes.
And then there were all those orphans.
The bigger the village grew, the more of them arrived, even though there were no active wars.
And when Konrad finally announced he wanted to leave—
Father Alastair never tried to stop him. He only asked to train the other kids first, so the merchants would still have a reason to stop by their tiny village.
Damn. Was he wrong about his adoptive father all this time?!
Not like this was important right now.
"As I said, saints' blessings are rare," the bishop said. "They're our last resort when the real danger comes. But to give them power, we need strong faith. And for that—"
He waved around again, showing him the village.
"We need a strong hinterland that can trust us."
"Well," Konrad grumbled. "The village is thriving because of my relationship with the merchants. It wasn't Father Alastair's doing. And then, there's that accursed Inquisitor."
"Yes, yes, I'll admit, we have some rotten apples as well," Benedictus said.
But what he didn't say was even louder.
Yeah. If Konrad were honest with himself—
He wouldn't have spent the coins he earned here, let alone on the village itself.
That priest did instead, and out of the two of them, he might have been the rotten one after all.