CH-074

Shulec woke up the next morning to hear that the Dunstan Cathedral's bishop had been bludgeoned to death.

For a moment he felt as if the sky had fallen.

…Were they still going to follow the original schedule?

The image of Finnian's reproachful eyes floated up in his mind — having been put in charge of the roles of music teacher, tuner, and conductor combined for seven or eight children, Finnian was probably run ragged right now. And yet here they were, delayed even further…

After the news broke, Shulec distracted himself by baking a fully loaded cheese pizza in the cast-iron pot.

Right now, only cheese could bring him joy.

The cheese was Finnian's homemade variety.

He had bought quite a lot of it originally, afraid the journey would leave his body without enough warmth, and had stashed it in the carriage — he hadn't eaten much of it along the way. But now, in a bad mood, he had piled the cheese onto the pizza so thick it looked like a layer of cotton wool. The moment it came out of the pot, the rich milky aroma came first.

One knife-cut down, and the hot cheese pulled into a long, stretching string.

Steam laced with the scent of cream teased the saliva of everyone nearby.

But Shulec carried the food back to his room without noticing anyone's reaction. He simply said to Ramon and Father Simeon: "I still don't know when we'll be able to leave. Since we've been delayed, we need to think about rationing. I have things to do back in the Savoy parish."

Father Simeon reached the room and immediately extended his hand toward the pulling cheese pizza, blowing on the heat. "There's nothing to be done."

In his heart Father Simeon would frankly have been very glad to stay with Shulec a while longer. One was that he was genuinely close to Shulec; two was that Shulec's philosophy of travel was to eat and drink well and make every hard journey into a happy memory, so Shulec cooked something new every day. Father Simeon had never experienced such a joyful way of living.

Ramon, while missing his family, had complete faith in Shulec. With Shulec there, everything would work out. So he wasn't worried at all.

But seeing Shulec with his brow furrowed, Ramon offered tentatively, "What if we ask Bishop Hugo what's happening?"

Shulec shook his head.

He was by nature someone who preferred not to multiply trouble.

If this weren't a simple accident or a straightforward murder — and granted, hearing that the man was "bludgeoned to death," it was almost certainly not suicide — the Dunstan Cathedral would not have announced the news and then immediately sealed off the altar and forbidden anyone from discussing it at all.

Unless it was something the Church wouldn't let out.

Once Shulec grasped this, he also forbade Ramon and Father Simeon from going to ask around, lest they wade into murky waters, get tangled in trouble, and drag him along with them.

Compared to Shulec's caution, though, the other two looked remarkably unbothered — as if having Shulec around meant nothing could go wrong.

Shulec, afraid they hadn't absorbed the gravity of it, reminded them again: "I'm worried the Dunstan Cathedral is very deep waters. Asking around carelessly could bring trouble on ourselves."

Both of them were clear-thinking people with sharp minds. Once Shulec laid out his concern plainly, they took it in.

But if they didn't listen, Shulec had a backup plan — he would use emotion to pressure them.

In crude terms: "If you don't listen to me, I'll be upset with you."

This kind of approach worked particularly well on children. Because there were times when children simply couldn't be reasoned with, and a small emotional warning could resolve many things at once.

Shulec had barely finished speaking when a "thud-thud" came from the bench — two small bodies dropping onto it simultaneously: Carwen and Seamus.

Before the adults could even react, Carwen had naturally inserted himself into the conversation and opened his mouth to speak: "If you want to know anything, I can tell you. I just came from Grandpa Otto's — I know plenty." His eyes, as he spoke, were also landing squarely on the pizza.

The meaning could not have been more obvious.

Shulec, though he hadn't specifically saved portions for the children, knew none of the adults would begrudge giving a child a bite. "Help yourselves."

His eyes also moved toward Lesley instinctively, and he noticed that out of the three brothers, Lesley was the type who was always a step behind. By the time he walked over slowly and sat down at the end of the bench, both of the others had already claimed their spots. Carwen had even deliberately pressed up close against Shulec, leaving enough room for his brothers.

Honestly, seeing these two brothers genuinely and wholeheartedly accepting Lesley — treating him like a real little brother — the last of Shulec's residual unease quietly dissolved.

Lesley really was the male lead — his ability to win people over was plain to see.

Lesley might be bullied and put upon in the early arcs of the novel, but his arc was essentially a dragon's ascension narrative — enemies turned to allies in no time.

Wonderful. The worry about Lesley being mistreated had clearly been excessive, on his part.

But Lesley's full attention was on the carriage in front of him.

He watched Carwen press in nearly into Shulec's arms, and Shulec not minding in the least — even tilting his head slightly toward Carwen. In that instant, his mind went entirely blank. Even the slice of pizza being held out to him went unnoticed.

Could they really get that close?

The two of them were essentially strangers, weren't they?

How did Carwen manage it?

Lesley was still processing this reality when Carwen, seeing his silence, leaned over and asked, "Lesley, do you want to sit next to me?"

Seeing Shulec also look over, Lesley instinctively straightened, sat down at the end of the bench, and said, "No."

Carwen had been about to make room for Lesley between himself and Seamus. But the refusal came, and Carwen didn't dwell on it, turning instead to the others to deliver the real news: "Something has gone very wrong in the Dunstan Cathedral."

Seamus, seeing his brother about to launch into a preamble, didn't know how long the explanation would take. He cast one glance at the pizza, then declared war on the pulling cheese on his own behalf.

The cheese was generous and the whole thing was warm and soft, fragrant with milk. Picking up a piece gave you a long, long string that took a while to finally break. Seamus held it up partway, mouth up-turned chasing the dripping cheese, and then finally "crunch" — he bit the whole thing in, stuffing his mouth full of bliss.

He swung his feet in the air, legs dangling off the bench, unconsciously keeping rhythm with his chewing, full of contentment.

Catching a glimpse of his little brother eating the pizza and not saying a word, Carwen was so tempted he swallowed involuntarily.

"Let me eat first!" Carwen decided food came before the news. "Tell Lesley to explain."

Lesley had no particularly strong desire to speak, but with everyone's eyes on him, he simply took on the task without fuss and explained. "This morning, the Dunstan Cathedral's deputy bishop received a notification from his vice bishop that Cardinal Otto had gone to the cathedral. Bishop Hugo sealed off the altar and found two key items at the scene."

His tone was flat, no extraneous emotion. He had not once called Cardinal Otto "grandfather," and even without the closeness of addressing him as Bishop Holm's student would, simply used the neutral "cardinal." "One was a bloodstained eight-inch statue fallen beside the body — broken at the head, suggesting it was the murder weapon. The other was a collar clasp belonging to Father Jek, found near the altar steps."

Father Simeon followed the thread and offered a connected inference: "So there was actually a conflict between Father Jek and the Dunstan bishop? And Father Jek killed by accident?"

Lesley answered with clear articulation: "Father Jek admitted that there had indeed been a conflict between himself and the Dunstan bishop, but denied having laid hands on him. The finger-mark bruising on his neck, he claimed, was from a person who attacked him a few days ago."

He paused briefly. "However — if it were bruising from a few days ago, it should already have changed color. It would not still be red as it is now."

Shulec couldn't help raising his eyebrows. "How do you know that?"

That was forensic medicine knowledge. How did Lesley know it?

Was it from extensive personal experience being injured?

"You told me." Lesley looked at Shulec and said, "The first time you found Finnian, you told me: 'A bruise in the first two days might still be red, but after two days it will start turning blue-purple, and after five days it will be green.'"

Shulec was a little surprised — that was from early spring of that year.

What a memory.

Carwen, busy eating, managed to chime in and add: "That's right — Lesley said it in one sentence and left Father Jek completely speechless, forced to admit that the bruising on his neck had actually come from a confrontation the previous night. You should have seen how impressive Lesley was, Lord Alis!"

Shulec: "……"

In truth, bruise timing could vary with the cold — red bruising could persist for three days or more in winter. The fact that Father Jek immediately confessed suggested he had simply been too conscience-stricken. Using bruise color alone, he couldn't have been definitively nailed down.

Not to mention that the dropped collar clasp was itself enough to establish that Father Jek had been in contact with the bishop the previous night.

All that was needed was a witness.

Shulec could serve as one — he had seen that clasp on the man yesterday.

Father Simeon, who had not expected things to be resolved already, said, "So the case is closed? Does that mean the bishop selection can proceed normally? We need three bishops for the review, don't we?"

Ramon immediately sat up straight, clapping his hands with a grin. "Wait — isn't Bishop Hugo right there as the third bishop?"

Even if everyone said it was impossible, Ramon still hoped that Shulec could become their Savoy bishop. The whole place felt like Shulec's. Whoever else became bishop — Savoy wouldn't be Savoy anymore. The whole Yager family wanted nothing more than to serve Lord Alis. Ramon said, "Our Lord Alis can get one vote!"

As these words fell, Father Simeon was equally pleased at the prospect: "Bishop Hugo likes Lord Alis so much, he'll definitely support him too."

Their plan for merging Stone Hollow into Savoy was back on the table.

Lesley, hearing the two of them talk, found himself instinctively wanting to correct them. His eyes flashed with something unreadable, and he couldn't help saying: "Haven't you heard what other people are saying? Father Alis doesn't meet the minimum age or service requirements to become bishop. How could he become bishop?"

"Is that so…" Father Simeon and Ramon were not at all deflated. "I think Bishop Hugo, who can do anything, will definitely find a way!"

Lesley could not comprehend their kind of optimism without evidence.

But as he finished saying it, he suddenly realized he sounded as though he hoped Shulec wouldn't become bishop.

This thought gave him a fright. He glanced instinctively toward Shulec.

Shulec had not reacted strangely to Lesley's words at all — only giving the two of them a helpless expression that said "not this again." Clearly, their naive optimism had been expressed more than once before.

Even if reality struck them down, they probably wouldn't obsess over it.

Shulec had no interest in expanding on the bishop candidate question, so he asked instead: "They say it was a bludgeoning — what exactly was the weapon? I've only heard it was a murder on the altar. What could have been there to serve as a bludgeon?"

Shulec genuinely couldn't picture what on an altar could be used to kill someone.

"You don't know?" Seamus had already finished one piece and finally had room to speak. He looked at the three adults in turn. "The murder weapon was the eight-inch statue."

"Hmm?" Shulec felt a doubt rise in his chest, and mentally went over Lesley's account once more. "Are you sure?"

"Definitely. We all saw it. Right?" Carwen looked to the other two, not understanding why Shulec would question this. "The statue's head was shattered in places, covered in blood."

"But that doesn't seem right." Shulec looked at Father Simeon and Ramon and said, "Does this seem normal to you?"

But what surprised him was that Father Simeon and Ramon both found it strange, and even the composed Lesley asked: "What seems wrong?"

Ramon spoke first: "Because what faith would lead a believer to kill someone with a holy statue?"

Lesley immediately thought of the case at the Carson City meeting hall, and suddenly grasped the logic of the believers. Yet he quickly said, "But the deacon in Carson City also used a Bible to kill. And furthermore, Father Jek may well be a heretic, and he wouldn't care about the statue."

Saying this, Lesley himself sensed something off.

Carwen saw nothing problematic, saying, "What Lesley said makes a lot of sense! They kill without worrying about what weapon they use!"

Young as he was, he had seen more of the Church's empty-bellied frauds than most parish priests from remote areas.

As Lesley heard more, his mind became sharper and sharper.

He was about to speak when his voice went dry. He couldn't help glancing toward Shulec, his eyes flickering. "……"

Shulec, recognizing that Lesley had identified where something went wrong, said, bypassing the bruising issue: "Whether a person would use a statue to kill depends on how devout they are."

"And devout believers do not lie," he added.

Carwen and Seamus didn't follow.

Shulec prompted them: "Can you remember what reason first made Father Jek a suspect?"

Seamus tilted his head: "The collar clasp that fell to the floor."

"But in the end what clinched the accusation was the bruise on his neck — isn't that strange?" Shulec guided them to think.

Both children gave a slight start and looked at Shulec. "Right — after that I didn't hear anyone go back and discuss the collar clasp."

Lesley's eyes gradually lifted, and with unhurried precision he said, "Because when the matter of the collar clasp came up, Father Jek didn't argue further. Instead of wanting people to dig deeper into that clasp, he accepted the charge. Once his bruise was pointed out, he admitted on his own that the confrontation with the bishop had been the night before."

His gaze swept the people around him and he continued evenly: "And what's more — the reason Father Jek could not refute my words may not be that he accepted my logic as correct, but that he did not want people to look further into the clasp issue."

"…Why couldn't he talk about the clasp?" Carwen asked immediately.

At the same time, Ramon also frowned in confusion and blurted out, "So — did Lesley get it wrong about the bruise?"

As the words landed, the bench leg scraped hard against the floor with a sharp, grating sound.

From across the table, Ramon gave an "ah" and hunched forward, the color draining from his face instantly.

Shulec looked at the two young lads nearby — one staring at the ceiling, one studying the floor, both wearing expressions of complete innocence. In the end he closed his eyes, then carried on patiently.

"The reason he couldn't discuss the clasp — either to protect someone, or because he cannot lie. This case isn't over yet…"

Shulec said this, unwilling to believe that both Bishop Hugo and Bishop Holm had missed the same point, and so pressed further: "Didn't Bishop Hugo say anything?"

Just then, the shadows of the trees outside the window shifted suddenly — as if a breeze had passed, but no air flow could be felt inside the room.

Carwen tilted his head. "I didn't notice anything there."

He looked toward Lesley: "Did you see?"

Lesley was indeed the child in the group who saw the most clearly and remembered the most. He thought for a moment and then said, "Bishop Hugo seemed to glance at Bishop Holm, and then said nothing at all. Bishop Holm also said nothing. The feeling was—"

Lesley looked at Shulec and said with certainty: "I had the feeling the two of them were sharing a secret they couldn't let out."

The moment these words landed, from the corner of Shulec's eye he caught a flash of robes disappearing around the hallway corner. When he turned to look, the space was empty. "……"

And inside the room, the air had frozen, and even the two mischievous children were quietly exchanging glances.

At this, everyone had the good sense not to speculate further.

And in a place none of them could see, a dark figure quietly extended itself once more.