"Pamir City, I haven’t been here for some time," the old man in the carriage sighed.
As the God of Wealth’s touring Bishop, the old man had just dealt with a debt recovery in Carterburg. Unfortunately, because of the debtor’s death, it seemed impossible to reclaim the money. As a touring Bishop, he definitely needed to inform the headquarters in Sydney, Central Administrative Province, so they could make a decision.
Moreover, the situation was far more complicated than he had thought upon departure. Thirteen Noble families in Carterburg had silently perished, four of which were already extinct, in addition to the assassination attempt on the prince, and the unsuccessful attempt on the Mischael family head. It seemed the followers of the Church of Justice in Carterburg had countless troubles.
Compared to that, the troubles of the Church of the God of Wealth were a minor issue within minor issues.
Inconsequential, trifling.
Consecutive days of investigation and subsequent traveling had taken their toll on Singer, who, despite being a Merchant of Sequence five and an administrator, was tired. The Merchant Sequence did not provide him with as much vigor as the battle-oriented Sequences might have.
Having recalled the nearby regional map in his mind, Singer tapped on the carriage door: "Milo, it’s getting late, change of plans, we’ll rest at our own Church tonight in Pamir City, and visit my old friend at the Church of Justice tomorrow."
"No problem, Your Excellency," the coachman responded.
After Singer’s convoy entered the city and moved quickly along the streets, they soon reached the Church of the God of Wealth. Surprised by the quiet streets, Singer leaned out the window, "What’s going on, what happened to Pamir City today?"
"Your Excellency, there are barricades set up by the City Guards on the eastern streets," explained the guard at the church gate. "Seems like they are pursuing Chaotic Believers, nearly the whole area is closed off here."
So that was the case; it seemed the city wasn’t so peaceful after all.
Singer sighed about the state of the world and then noticed two guards dragging something through an alley: "What are they up to?" Singer could see that the guards appeared to be dragging something like a sack.
Out of curiosity, he turned his head to the squad of guards following his convoy: "Rod, go take a look."
An older-looking Church Guard left the formation, rode his horse into the alley, dismounted at the entrance, entered, spoke with the two guards, then came out and nodded at Singer, "Nothing to worry about, Your Excellency, it’s just followers dealing with Spirits."
Singer nodded, then turned with a smile to the guard by the door: "Speaking of which, is your Bishop Kogen doing well? I’m a good friend of his."
"Bishop Kogen is in good health, rest assured," the guard responded with a smile. "Will you be coming in to rest? I’m sure Bishop Kogen would be delighted to see an old friend."
Singer fell silent for a moment, then nodded: "That can’t be wrong. Guard, keep a watch on the Church. Milo, let’s go see my old friend."
His coachman turned and glanced at his church leader: "Your Excellency, you just..." "Who are you calling ’Your Excellency?’" Singer frowned, clearly irritated.
The coachman shut his mouth immediately and then began to whip the horses.
As the convoy left the Church, Singer finally relaxed— he didn’t know Kogen at all, Kogen was not his good friend, nor was he a Bishop.
There was something wrong with that guard, perhaps the entire Pamir Church was compromised.
With that thought, Singer patted the carriage, "Milo! To the Church of Justice, quickly!"
At this time, only his true friend, Constance, would help him. He had to find out what was really happening in the Church of the God of Wealth in Pamir City.
With this thought, he heard gunshots.
Malin pricked up his ears; he heard the sound of gunshots.
As he stood up, some of the elves also discerned the distant gunshots. One of the elven Punishers rose: "Your Excellency, we’ve heard gunshots."
Old Hoffman, who had been meditating, waved his hand dismissively, "Ignore them; unless it’s a standard command, we shouldn’t waste our energy dealing with them."
So the elven Punishers sat back down, while Malin walked to the window. Atop the Church’s contemplation tower, one could see the entire city. Pamir City possessed far more vitality than Carterburg, with a larger population and a bigger cityscape. Looking southward over the city from here, the night was lit by countless light sources.
Malin again heard gunshots, far off, likely toward the southern part of the city, caused by lever rifles.
Then Malin heard more gunshots, distant, in the south; the distinct crisp notes brought by military rifles.
"Mentor, they’re gunshots from military rifles," Malin turned to look at old Hoffman.
His mentor opened his eyes, "Go have a look."
Malin nodded, then hurriedly ran to the door, pushed open the wooden door, and sprinted down the twisting staircase. He passed through a small archway, down the corridor, lifted the heavy curtain, and, under the puzzled gaze of a Proxy, took the armor handed to him, buckling the helmet onto his head. Malin did not take his shotgun; instead, he switched to a short-barreled semi-automatic rifle - the gentlemen of Pamir City were indeed wealthy.
With such a thought, Malin whistled, motioned to a squad of half-human Punishers nearby. Even though they did not know why Malin called for them, Hoffman’s orders came quickly, and the half-human squad suited up in their armor and followed Malin out of the Church.