"Thank you for your guidance." Schneider sat on the other side of the solid wood desk, lamplight shining on his profile, "You know, people like me are always surrounded by agreeing voices, so I'm always prone to being deceived."
Aldridge didn't speak.
"Life is like coffee. Such a bitter thing, yet we force ourselves to drink it. After drinking too much, we taste a hint of fragrance, but that's still deceptive. Bitter is bitter. Just because you're addicted doesn't mean it's not bitter." Schneider took a sip of the coffee he had brewed and wrinkled his nose.
"You abandoned the title of rune master, abandoned your life in Florence, ran alone to Londinium to live in seclusion for forty years. Why did you come to Spessay?"
Schneider clasped his hands together, looking at Aldridge's messy hair. This former genius runic craftsman had long since grown silver hair that spread wildly across his rough head.
"You hid for so many years, yet you're still on the Church's list. You can't escape. Seclusion is just an illusion. As long as the Church needs you, one transfer order can make you bid farewell to your old life and head to the cold north."
Schneider looked at Aldridge's lowered head. The corners of his mouth faintly curved up, but hidden by his hands, no one knew except himself and God.
"You follow behind that young bishop, doing this and that for him, accompanying him through the snowy plains, obeying the Church's orders as before. But if this is the kind of life you wanted to live, why did you hide back then? Wouldn't it have been better to enjoy life in Florence?"
"Look! He doesn't treat you as a rune master at all. He made you sleep in the cold church hall. Yes, he also slept there, but today he went to admire his mansion. What about you? He completely forgot about you."
"He probably doesn't care about you at all. Just a dog that runs here and there at the Church's command. It's quite normal for him to look down on you, isn't it?"
Aldridge clenched his fists and asked in a hoarse voice, "What exactly are you trying to say?"
"Join us, sir." Schneider looked at him.
Aldridge sneered, "Why should I?"
Schneider stared at him intently, "Because we're not the executioners of the Fourth Crusade."
The rune master's pupils suddenly contracted.
Schneider withdrew his gaze, smiled elegantly, opened the documents at hand, and read, "The Messiah Church's Fourth Crusade completely destroyed the Mountain Kingdom. The dwarves' generations of wealth filled the Church's treasury. The runic techniques passed down through dwarf generations also became the Church's [Sacred Runes]..."
"...You were a witness to that event, weren't you? The Mountain Medal... Only craftsmen who made outstanding contributions to runic technology could receive it."
Aldridge's throat made a "heh heh" sound, "Enough, don't mention it anymore."
But Schneider didn't stop, "They killed all the surrendered dwarves, directly erasing this race along with the dwarves' god from the world... Even halflings of mixed human-dwarf blood were discriminated against and persecuted... You established a halfling vagrant shelter in Londinium, didn't you? You sympathize with them."
"I said enough!"
"Not enough! Sir! You hate the Church's atrocities! The killing and extermination! You had no other choice, so for forty years you refused to serve the Church. You refused to cooperate!"
Aldridge angrily stood up, turned and walked to the door, then slammed it heavily as he left.
The guards outside looked at each other, walked in and used their eyes to ask Schneider whether to stop him, but he only smiled and shook his head.
Ah, anger, charming anger, the instinctive counterattack when touching forbidden zones of the soul.
The materials in Spessay's archives were pitifully few, but fortunately his guess was close enough.
The Governor's task would be completed soon.
Schneider lit a cigar, this was learned from the Governor, who was happy to see his subordinates imitate him, and exhaled a cloud of smoke.
"Without the Steel Angel Knights, without Red Mercury, without runes... Burdened with countless blood debts, what does the Church have left?"
…
"These things are irrelevant." Cyren Delante sat in a chair in the underground residence, interrupting Joseph who was endlessly introducing its luxurious arrangements and exquisite design.
The priest immediately bowed his head respectfully, assuming a posture of earnest listening.
Cyren looked at him and sighed, "Just familiarize yourself with the residence. From now on, you don't need to introduce these luxury items. Take me directly to the Holy Treasury."
Joseph nodded, "Understood. The Holy Treasury is on the eighteenth underground level. Please follow me."
Cyren stood up, then followed behind him, walking toward the lift.
The bishop's treatment was indeed good. Underground levels 3-6 belonged to the residential area, with better conditions the further down you went. On the precious underground level six, he had a huge residential space of three hundred square meters, exactly the same as the Governor across from him.
But he didn't care. What he cared more about was the Holy Treasury that Joseph mentioned. That was the Church's treasury where many supplies were stored. The supplies originally transported by the Northern Holy Seat train were also supposed to be sent to the Holy Treasury, but unfortunately it overturned on the way.
The platinum-colored lift went down all the way. Cyren saw layer upon layer of residential areas. Underground level 3 was the lowest, underground level 6 was the highest, symbolizing power and class.
Underground level 7 was the control area. A huge difference engine operated here, controlling the entire city. Under layers of steel plates, precise gears and numbers operated and calculated in places Cyren couldn't see.
Further down were the boiler, industrial area, animal husbandry area, and agricultural area. Noise and heat filled them. Complex gear mechanical structures that made Cyren dizzy were exposed under fiery red light.
But the core twelve steam engines hadn't started yet. They were like twelve giant steel hearts, silent in this complex and precise body.
Traveling through Spessay's underground, Cyren always had the feeling of exploring inside some steel monster's body.
Finally, he passed through the relatively cold reservoir area and arrived at the eighteenth underground level.
This was the shelter's warehouse, located below the water layer. Cold filled this place, but it could preserve some agricultural products and meat.
Soldiers wearing the Spessay Governor's armbands stood beside various entrances and passages. Even if a thief could steal something from here, they couldn't get past their patrols and blockades.
Cyren walked forward calmly, then two soldiers blocked him.
"Wait a moment, Lord Bishop."
Joseph's face twitched, and Cyren frowned, walking before them.
"What's wrong?" Cyren asked calmly.
"We're very sorry, this area belongs to the Governor's jurisdiction. You cannot proceed further."
Joseph shouted, "Since when does the Governor control this place? Does the Holy Treasury already belong to the Governor?"
The soldiers had cold faces, "The Holy Treasury is naturally Church property, but this passage currently belongs to the Governor's jurisdiction. We need to ensure unrelated persons don't approach the nearby gold warehouse."
"You... you're questioning the character of clergy!" Joseph shouted angrily.
The soldiers looked at his round belly and waist, saying nothing.
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