Valentinus' eyes widened. He couldn’t comprehend what Sebastian had just said. “Diocesan agents hiding in the city?” Were there really such agents involved in a secret mission to conceal a Saint? Only high-ranking agents would have the authority to undertake such an operation. Had the diocese kept him in the dark all this time? Was there a deeper conspiracy within his own ranks that he wasn’t aware of?

  Sebastian carefully observed Valentinus’ expression and realized that his bluff had worked. Hook, line, and sinker. The Cardinal had no clue what was truly happening or what kind of web he had stumbled into. Sebastian needed to stall for time. It was strange enough that a cardinal of such high rank would walk around without guards. He knew they were there—hiding in the shadows, watching every move.

  Valentinus rose slowly, trembling at the thought of diocesan agents possibly watching and knowing about his secret ambitions. A thousand possibilities flashed through his mind. His elaborate plans, which he had meticulously crafted for years, now seemed dangerously exposed.

  “The Pope… Only the Pope would have the authority to command a Saint like this!” Valentinus thought, panic bubbling inside him.

  Sebastian leaned in, his voice steady and cold. "So, Cardinal, what exactly is happening right now?"

  Valentinus swallowed hard. His throat felt like sandpaper. He was lost for words, convinced that the Pope had discovered his plans and sent Sebastian to confront him. Every careful detail of his scheme had seemingly unraveled in a single moment.

  But then, a sly thought sparked in Valentinus’ mind. Slowly, his lips curled into a wide smile. Perhaps there was a way out after all.

  "Y-you must be hungry after three days, my Lord Saint. How about we discuss this over dinner?"

  Sebastian frowned, irritated. He couldn’t waste time here—his mother was waiting for him back in the village. But running now wasn’t an option. He could feel at least five hidden figures gripping their weapons, ready to strike if he made the wrong move.

  "I don’t want to stay here any longer," Sebastian growled.

  "Dinner won’t take long, my Lord! I promise to confess all my sins!"

  Sebastian glared at Valentinus, sensing the man’s desperation and cunning. The situation was a trap wrapped in honeyed words, but he had no choice but to play along. His body still hadn’t fully recovered, and escaping while surrounded by unknown enemies wasn’t the wisest plan.

  "Fine. Dinner, and then I leave."

  "Thank you! Thank you, my Lord Saint!" Valentinus said, his face lighting up in exaggerated relief.

  "Please, follow me to the dining hall!"

  As Valentinus led the way, Sebastian noticed the five hidden guards stepping into the open. Three men and two women clad in armor adorned with intricate church symbols. A crest emblazoned on their breastplates caught his eye, but he couldn’t recognize it. The guards gazed at him with cold, calculating eyes—unlike the fearful soldiers he had encountered earlier.

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  Sebastian entered a grand dining hall filled with luxurious decorations and an absurdly long table. The room gleamed with opulence. Lavish gold-trimmed curtains framed the windows, and the table was covered with expensive ornaments. The air reeked of wealth and excess.

  "Servants!" Valentinus called.

  A group of servants entered, carrying trays of food. Exquisite dishes were placed on the table: fresh beef, rare fruits from distant lands, and colorful pastries that looked like jewels. The sheer abundance of food could have fed an entire village for a week. Sebastian clenched his fists in quiet rage. How dare this priest indulge in such luxury while the rest of the kingdom suffered under food rationing and poverty?

  "This is fresh beef imported from Gallicia," Valentinus boasted. "And these are Carthian-style sweets, currently a favorite among the nobility."

  Sebastian didn’t care where the food came from. To him, beef was just beef, and sweets were simple treats for celebrations. He grabbed a slab of beef and a piece of chicken with both hands, ignoring the utensils. Valentinus flinched, startled by the lack of noble etiquette. Saints were supposed to be refined and educated by the diocese, but Sebastian’s behavior was nothing like the polished image of a holy figure.

  Valentinus forced a nervous smile. "So, Saint Sebastian, I know this may all look... questionable. But everything I’ve done has been for the good of the diocese."

  "Explain," Sebastian said sharply.

  "Ah, where to begin?" Valentinus leaned forward. "My guards belong to an order that was once... controversial. Radical, even. The Inquisitor Order. They were given many unsavory labels, which led to their dissolution by the diocese. But I am currently reviving them."

  Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. "Reviving the Inquisitor Order?"

  "Yes! I’ve gained the support of several cardinals, and the decree to reestablish the order is already on the Pope’s desk. That must be why you’re here—to investigate."

  Sebastian felt like he had just stumbled into a labyrinth of conspiracies and church politics. He was completely out of his depth. One wrong word could expose him, so he decided to listen carefully.

  "Go on," he said.

  "What’s happening outside," Valentinus continued, "is simply... my effort to seize control of Isildus for the glory of the diocese!"

  "Seizing Isildus? For the glory of the diocese?"

  "Exactly! Historically, this region belonged to us. By weakening the Kingdom of Corsica through the chaos of Stampedes, we create the perfect opportunity for the diocese’s army to march in and reclaim it. Not just Isildus—the entire kingdom! With neighboring kingdoms distracted by their own Stampede crises, no one will intervene."

  Sebastian swallowed the lump in his throat. His appetite vanished, replaced by a sickening sense of dread. For years, he had cursed God, wondering why the Stampedes never ceased, why they brought such relentless misery. Now, sitting across from him was the man responsible for it all. He fought the urge to flip the table and bash Valentinus’ head in.

  "So all this time, the Stampedes... they were your doing?"

  "I was forced to do this," Valentinus said, feigning remorse. "I will bear the sins I’ve committed for the greater good. Thousands may perish, but in the end, the diocese will emerge stronger. The ends justify the means!"

  Sebastian stared at Valentinus, stunned by his madness. His body tensed, ready to strike, but he needed more answers.

  "How are you controlling the Stampedes?"

  Valentinus smiled slyly. "Ah, of course, my Lord Saint, I would be happy to share—"

  "Wait," a scarred guard interrupted, stepping forward. "Cardinal, we cannot reveal our plans to the Saint so easily."

  Sebastian shifted his gaze to the guard.

  "What do you mean, Cain?" Valentinus asked.

  Cain locked eyes with Sebastian. "I am not convinced that this Saint is truly a member of the diocese."