"Can you hear the commotion outside?" Elin asked. "The results were announced at four in the morning, and by nine, the news had spread everywhere. If I were the king, I'd be frustrated—my own birthday probably wouldn't cause such a stir. He didn't even declare this a national holiday! The only ones still working are probably the bookstores selling paperback scriptures. I hear Nehri has taken over the church aisles, mocking the poor souls who used to support Lindy."
"How is Hylan?" Jorgen asked from behind the iron bars.
"He hasn't made an appearance yet; probably waiting for things to calm down to avoid a heart attack. It's nice to be here, away from the chaos. Just taking a walk down the street now would fill my hair with 'Praise the Holy Light.'"
On the morning the new archbishop was announced, Elin finally arrived at Jorgen's cell. He hadn't exaggerated about what he saw on the way. The cheers weren't just from Hylan's supporters; it wasn't even limited to the believers of the Holy Light. After the earthquake and Benedictus's death, Stormwind finally had something to celebrate. The city had been shrouded in gloom and negativity for months, with every brick and rooftop seeming as tense as overworked muscles, now finally finding a reason to relax. Some people stood at their doorsteps with their families, praying with tears in their eyes. Others handed out cards with Hylan's past speeches. Those celebrating with daytime drinking had likely already forgotten Hylan's teachings on temperance.
The collective burst of positive emotion was, to Elin, like the noise spilling out of a circus tent—not something that truly affected him. His sole purpose today was to say what needed to be said to the friend in front of him. He hadn't rehearsed his words. When he saw Jorgen again, he told himself there would be plenty of time today.
"As I see it, you're looking pretty good. If I were in your shoes, I'd be far worse off. For instance, I certainly wouldn't be in the mood to shave. You know the council plans to execute you before the new archbishop's coronation, right?"
"I know. The warden asked me what I wanted for my last meal the day before yesterday."
"Did that really happen?"
"But what I got that night was no different from the usual."
"Could you not say it so calmly? Of course, expecting you to tell me that with a tragic face would be unrealistic. Anyway... I'm glad you're still alive, because at least seventy percent of that is thanks to me."
To save Jorgen, Mardias had arranged for Tony and Elin to carry out different efforts, but the core of their work centered around exposing the True Prayer Circle. The initial spark that set off this series of events was the dispute between Hylan and Jorgen over how to handle the Prayer Circle, so starting there was far more effective than emphasizing Jorgen's contributions to the MI7. Tony infiltrated the Prayer Circle, luring some key members into desecrating Benedictus's grave; Mardias had set up a trap in advance and captured them all. Elin, following one of the Circle's founders, made a significant discovery—imprisoned in the target's basement was Kirinworth, the cathedral physician who had witnessed Benedictus take his last breath. After investigation and interrogation, they learned that the Circle's founder had used Kirinworth's statements to enhance the organization's authority, and after a serious ideological split, had imprisoned him.
With the results of these two actions, Mardias approached Hamilton for negotiations.
"The election is still ongoing, and the clergy engaged in intense debate don't need more troubles, so I haven't told them about the Prayer Circle's attempt to desecrate the archbishop's grave. On the other hand, the people are waiting for an election result they can trust, and I believe that can only come from an upright and considerate church. Kirinworth harbors a strong animosity towards all three candidates; placing someone like him at the archbishop's bedside is rather laughable. The fact that he still has the chance to spread his views only further highlights the church's carelessness. It's quite ironic, don't you think, Lord Hamilton, that the cathedral members were the first to provide the core ideology for the Prayer Circle?"
"This was just an unfortunate coincidence."
"It was indeed a coincidence. But the problem is, the church concealed Kirinworth's disappearance, not reporting it to the MI7 or the police. I believe it was just because the matter was too sensitive, not because there are still undiscovered conspiracies within the church. However, what do you think the people will believe?"
Mardias's condition was to never publicly disclose the investigation results. He demanded the cancellation of Jorgen's death sentence without changing it to a long-term imprisonment, and guaranteed that Jorgen would not return to work at the MI7 for at least five years. The council had yet to give a clear answer—they might be waiting for new leverage after the archbishop's appointment, but for now, they didn't have the courage to carry out the execution. Their original plan was to use this opportunity to weaken both the church and the MI7 and seize control. However, if the conflict between the church and the MI7 intensified or showed signs of being one-sided, the council would have to intervene. At this point in the election, they couldn't afford to risk the people questioning the church's authority.
"I don't think they'll release you right away. They might keep you locked up for another ten or twenty years," Elin said.
"We'll have to wait and see."
"Looks like you'll miss my wedding, Jorgen. I'm marrying Glocara next week. The day after the archbishop's coronation. This thing has been delayed long enough. Finally..."
"Congratulations."
"Thanks, though I really wish you could say that from outside the bars. To be honest, whenever I thought about the guest list for the wedding, your name didn't even come to mind. Why? Because I felt that if you weren't there, it would be as absurd as if Glocara and I weren't there. It was something so obvious it wasn't worth stressing over. But ever since you got imprisoned, my thoughts started to change. I'll admit, Mardias is pretty capable, but is it really worth risking your life for this? Your life can't be bought, but to some, it's invaluable, old friend. If you were to hang yourself now, kick the bucket, my wedding wouldn't be able to happen. I want to know why, but I'm too lazy to keep asking you. Especially since you've been so uncooperative since being imprisoned, which is disappointing. You don't know what's been happening outside, but I'll tell you this—besides me finding Kirinworth, there are a lot of people out there circling around you. Saving someone from the gallows is probably one of the most exhausting jobs, and we still don't know if that's what you even want."
"I'm surprised you managed to get the death sentence revoked. I never said I was willing to be the council's death row inmate."
"That's not a pleasant way to put it, but at least it's not the worst thing I could've heard. If you were to ignore your own situation and ask me if the church is still targeting Mardias, I would've already walked away, never wanting to come back here. I won't ask why you're so intent on supporting Mardias, but there's one thing I must ask. You chose to stay in prison, so there must be another reason. Do you feel like you've done everything you can in this world, that there's nothing left worth staying for?"
"I don't understand why you're asking this."
"If you were to go to the gallows just like that, you'd regret it, Jorgen. I hope you feel guilty. I've said all this because I want you to understand how much trouble you've caused for us and yourself. At least think about this—you went to prison to support Mardias, but he's the one coming up with plans to save you. I came here today to tell you one last important thing. You almost became the world's worst-timed ghost."
At six in the morning, Mardias met the messenger sent by Lindy. Before that, he had planned to meet with Lindy to discuss strategy before Hylan's coronation. Now it seemed this had to be postponed. He and an attendant walked out of the Seventh Division's gate and mounted their horses.
At this time, the election results hadn't yet spread widely. The sunlight was weak, slowly seeping through the gaps between walls. The early risers had no idea what was about to happen; they continued on with the same routines they had followed since the earthquake. As he passed the square, Mardias saw that the church doors were already half-open. Some clergy were standing outside, talking.
By the time they reached their destination, the sky had brightened considerably. It was a place Mardias had personally chosen, a familiar spot at the edge of a small grove. Sometimes, he imagined that if it weren't for the recent busyness at the MI7, he might have chosen a similar place to live. He dismounted and walked through the house's front door.
At this moment, Mardias was still calm. He remembered his identity—assigned by his grandfather, meant for his father, and ultimately preserved with Jorgen's help. He had to maintain the conduct befitting this identity for everyone who saw him.
He climbed the stairs; pale golden light filtered through the window panes. He looked outside, adjusted his collar in the glass's reflection, and continued upwards.
Upon reaching the second floor, a nurse approached him, exchanged a few words, and then stood at the edge of the corridor. Mardias walked forward and stopped in front of a room.
—At this moment, he fully recalled his other identity. One that required no one's assignment or protection, and could not be taken by anyone.
Mardias entered the room. The attendant who had been following him knew not to enter. He glanced inside, then turned around, leaning against the wall beside the door, and waited.