Chapter 227: The Whistleblower
In the church’s grand hall, Priest Ferry looked down at the farmer kneeling at his feet.
The man had been broad-shouldered once. You could still see it in the frame, the way the shoulders were built for carrying things. But something had eaten through the structure from inside, leaving the posture folded inward, the hands trembling at his sides, the skin of his arms running purple-brown at the patches that hadn’t yet hardened into spots. By tomorrow those patches would be dark. By the day after, they’d have spread. He must have been infected recently to still be walking.
“I remember you,” Ferry said. “Rocky Hill, from the Eastern District. You bring us grain.”
“You recognize me — thank God, Your Reverence—” The man pressed his forehead to the floor, again, again. “The plague has taken my family. Please — I need the Holy Elixir, I beg you—”
“But what have you brought to the Church today?” Ferry didn’t stall; there was no pleasure in it when the conclusion was already visible. “The Holy Elixir isn’t something I can give away arbitrarily. What it asks for must come from the heart.”
“I — I tried the black market.” Rocky Hill’s voice was barely audible. “They took everything I had. I know my heart wasn’t sincere. I should never have looked for shortcuts. Please forgive me.” He reached into his shirt with shaking hands and produced a single egg — plump, clean, carefully transported. He held it out above his head. “This is all I have left. Please accept it.”
“A lost lamb who loses his way is always punished,” Ferry said. “But God has never stopped reaching out his hand.” He took the egg. “Only those who acknowledge their own faults can continue on the pilgrimage.” He allowed a smile. “Rise. God forgives you.”
Rocky Hill looked up with the expression of a man who has stopped believing in anything and found something to believe in again. “Really?”
“God’s envoys do not deceive.” Ferry beckoned, and a follower materialized with a box of potions. Ferry counted four bottles by touch, knowing the family’s size from memory, and placed them in Rocky Hill’s hands.
The man bent forward to kiss the priest’s shoes, weeping now, and the believers who had been watching from the sides of the hall began to cheer — the warm, communal sound of a congregation welcoming a new member home. Rocky Hill’s gratitude was absolute, unconditional, the kind that gets written in a person’s bones.
Ferry waited until the cheering settled, then raised his hand for quiet.
“Next.”
The distribution ran until the city’s bells announced dusk.
Ferry declared the day’s ceremony finished, leaving the crowd still begging in the hall, and made his way back to the rest area. His body had tired but his mind was still alight. The petitions, the prayers, the desperate calculation in every face — watching people offer everything they had left, watching gratitude replace fear in real time. No other work he had ever done felt so close to the divine.
Because what is God, ultimately, but the power to decide who lives? The Church had the disease and the cure. It had, in the most literal sense, the authority over life. In the face of that power, the wealthy and the noble stood in the same line as the destitute. Ferry had given up a merchant family’s comfortable inheritance to join an institution, and only now, watching the effects accumulate, did he understand fully that he had made the correct choice.
A clergyman appeared at his elbow. “Your Reverence. A street rat has come with information. He says it concerns the refugees and will only speak to you directly.”
Ferry considered it. The Church’s instructions had been clear: use the plague and the antidote to expand the faithful, treat King’s City as a conversion opportunity. The refugees mattered to that plan, but less than the citizens. He had intended to wait another two or three days — let the homeless camp thin itself out naturally, then arrive with salvation at the moment of maximum despair, when the contrast with Timothy’s abandonment would be sharpest. By his estimate, this approach would leave ninety percent of King’s City’s population owing the Church something they could never repay. A performance like that would secure a bishopric.
What could possibly have gone wrong out there that required direct attention?
“Take him to the secret room,” Ferry said. “I’ll follow shortly.”
He changed out of the ceremony robes and put on the flexible plate armor he kept in the closet, covering it with a loose coat. A glance in the silver mirror, a brief reorganization, and he went.
The man in the secret room was thin in the way specific hunger produces — bones visible through the skin of his arms, complexion the color of old candle wax. But here was the strange thing: not a single dark spot on him. Not one. The plague was running through the outer city like water through sand, and this man who lived in it showed no sign.
The moment Ferry entered, the man dropped to his knees. “Your Reverence, my name is Needle. I have important information.”
“Then speak.”
“But—” He glanced at the other two people in the room — Priest Shattrath, Ferry’s right hand, and the old woman Hera who managed the secret room and seldom left it.
“They stay,” Ferry said. “Shattrath is my right hand. Hera has been with this room longer than either of us. Speak.”
Needle’s eyes shifted to the blue vial in Ferry’s coat pocket.
“The promised—”
“The Holy Elixir is here.” Ferry produced it. “As long as what you tell me has value, you’ll be healed.”
“Your Reverence.” Needle’s chin came up. “I swear on everything I have that this information will astonish you. Someone is transporting the refugees away. Ships, one after another, all along the canal — I saw it myself. Within a few days, every refugee outside King’s City may be gone.”
“They’re moving infected people?” Ferry frowned. He’d known about a fleet transporting refugees before the plague broke out — that was ordinary enough. Nobles always picked through other nobles’ disasters for useful workers. But now? Knowing about the plague? “You’re certain you didn’t misread it?”
“I’m certain. They have a cure.” Needle’s voice quickened. “Bags of some strange water — I saw it work. A man drank it, and the dark spots on his skin disappeared within moments. The mercenaries told the refugees they’d receive food, shelter, and wages in the Western Region. The Lord of Border Town needs workers.” He let the pause breathe. “And the most astonishing part: they have a witch with them.”
The room went quiet.
“They have a witch,” Ferry repeated.
“Flying in the sky.” Needle’s eyes were large. “When another man jumped ship, the mercenaries gave chase — and that’s when I saw it. A shape moving in the air, too deliberate for a bird, circling the area around the ship. I didn’t dare move. I waited until we were several kilometers out before I slipped into the water and swam back. Nearly a full day’s journey.” He rubbed his hands together. “Your Reverence, is that not worth one bottle?”
“One moment.” Ferry looked at the man’s unspotted skin. “You said you boarded the ship and drank what they gave everyone to drink. If you were sick before, that means you’re cured now. Why do you want the Holy Elixir?”
Needle’s grin came out sideways — apologetic, revealing uneven yellow teeth. “Ah — well, the thing is—”
To sell it. Ferry had seen every version of this. An empty vial fetched twenty-five gold royals on the black market. The man wasn’t here for information; the cure was incidental. He was here because he’d stumbled onto something valuable enough to trade.
“How many men?” Ferry asked.
“Not more than a hundred. Maybe fewer. No armor, no horses — wooden spear things. Mercenaries, definitely, not military.”
“The ships?”
“No flags. Or flags I didn’t recognize. But they said they were heading for the Western Region. Border Town — the Lord there is reclaiming land, needs a large workforce.” Needle scratched through his memory. “That’s all I can remember.”
“You’ve brought me something worth knowing,” Ferry said. He pulled a blue vial from his pocket and tossed it across the table.
“Thank—” Needle lunged for the bottle, caught it, and then went still.
A blade stood out from his throat. Not deep — precise. Behind him, the old woman Hera stood without any particular expression, a slender dagger in her hand.
Chapter 227 The Whistleblower
In the grand hall of the church, the presiding priest was overlooking the farmer kneeling before his feet.
The farmers originally tall and sturdy stature had now turned into a completely crooked lump, with his hands slightly trembling and his skin showing an abnormal purple color. Not much longer and those patches will condense into dark spots, and eventually spread all over his body. By only getting infected today he can be considered as strong enough.
“I remember you; you are Rocky Hill living in the Eastern District, you frequently come to the church to bring us fresh wheat grain,” the priest said.
“You… recognize me! That’s great, Your Reverence” he kowtowed again and again, “The demonic plague infected my family, I, I need the Holy Elixir, I beseech you.”
“However, what is it that you brought with you to the Church today? The Holy Elixir isn’t something that I can arbitrarily give away,” Ferry stated, not stalling or taking his time. “The exchange it requires has to be given by your heart.”
“I, I in order to buy medicine, I have been cheated by those rats and lost all my money,” Rock Hill said with a trembling voice, “Please forgive me, for my heart wasn’t sincere, I should have never sought shortcuts by going through the black market. At present I only have one last egg left, please accept it.” With this words, he took one plump egg out of his chest and offered it with his hands extended above his head.
“Pinning your hope on the deceiving and mean people of the black market will naturally be punished, but God will always extend his hand to help a lost lamb back on the right track. Only those who recognize their own faults
will be able to go further and further on their pilgrimage.” Ferry took the egg and smiled.” Get up; God forgives you. ”
“Re-really?” Rocky Hill didn’t dare believe his ears.
“God’s envoys will never deceive someone.” Ferry beckon waved, and another follower holding a box with potions immediately came over. Ferry picked four bottles and handed them to Rocky Mountain. “If I remember correctly, your family has a total of four people, right?”
“Yes, Your Reverence,” he swallowed his tears, took the Holy Elixir in his hands and then leaned over to kiss the priest’s shoes, “Thank you, thank you, from now on I will dedicate my whole life to the Church and to God!”
This scene also touched all the believers standing at the side, they immediately began to cheering, happily welcoming a new member to their family of believers.
Waiting until the cheers ebbed down a little, Ferry held his hand up indicating that they should become quiet, then said with a clear voice: “Next.”
…
This kind of Holy Elixir distribution continued until dusk.
With the sounding of the King’s City’s bell, Priest Ferry declared the end of the day’s distribution ceremony which would be continued tomorrow morning, leaving the begging crowd behind in the main hall.
Although his body had become somewhat tired, his spirit was still fully burning. Since standing in the grand hall listening to the pleas and prayers of the people, and watching as they couldn’t wait to do everything they could to please him, made it impossible to not feel like a God in his mind.
No, what is commonly known as God is really just the Church itself, Ferry thought. After developing the demonic disease and the corresponding antidote, we can easily decide about other people’s life and death, with this
kind of power in our hands, what is the difference between us and God? Sighing with emotion, he was once more assured that giving up the inheritance of his family business and joining the Church had been the right choice.
In the face of such power, no one will be able to stop up. Wealthy businessmen? High-ranking nobles? When facing death, they will all be equally willing to abandon everything in exchange for the opportunity to live.
Returning to the rest area in the back hall, a clergyman hurriedly came up to him and whispered in his ear: “Your Reverence, a street rat came in and reported that he had discovered an important matter.”
“Regarding what?”
“Something about the refugees of the Eastern Region, the concrete news he only wants to say when meeting you face to face.” The clergyman immediately answered.
According to the Church’s instructions given beforehand, Ferry should make full use of the demonic plague and its antidote, and gather as many new followers for Hermes as possible. Therefore, winning over the refugees was also a part of his plan, but compared to the citizens of King’s City their importance wasn’t as high. He had intended to wait another two or three days, and let half of the homeless refugees die before coming out to treat and cure the rest, which would make them feel as if their King had abandoned them. As a result, within the whole of King’s City, 90% of its population would become the Church’s followers. With this kind of merit and the previous order for the Battle for the Throne, would perhaps be sufficient to take another step down the road to the rank of Bishop.
At least in regards to rewarding the people for their merits, the Church has always been very fair, never considering someone’s blood relationship or former identity. As long as someone showed outstanding performance, they would be promoted.
What kind of severe problem could have arisen within the refugees?
Suppressing his doubts to the bottom of his heart, he quietly said, “Alright, just take him to the secret room, I will join him soon.”
“Yes, Your Reverence.”
Taking off the ceremony priest robe, Ferry grasped a flexible plate armor out of the closet and put it on, and then covered it over with a loose coat. Afterward, he stepped in front of a silver mirror for a little reorganization before he left for the secret room.
Stepping into the chamber and analyzing the situation, the priest saw that the “informant’s” hair was disorderly, and his complexion was sallow and skinny, allowing him to see his bones in his arms. However, what was strange was that on his whole body there was not a trace of the black spots or any other symptoms.
The moment the opposite party saw the priest enter, he immediately went on his knees and announced, “Your Reverence, my name is Needle, and I have important information to tell you.”
“You may speak.”
“But…” He looked up, drifted with his eyes to the other two people accompanying them in the secret room, indicating that he was hesitant to speak in front of outsiders.
“They don’t matter, they are Priest Shattrath, my right-hand,” Ferry said. “And the other one is Grandma Hera, who is responsible for safeguarding and taking care of this secret room, almost never leaving this place.”
“Then I will speak but regarding the promised…”
“The Holy Elixir is here,” Ferry said, impatiently pulling out the blue vial. “As long as your information is valuable, I will, of course, heal you from the evil spirits.”
“Your Reverence, I assure you that this information is absolutely astonishing,” Needle proclaimed and raised his head. “Some people are
continuously transporting the fugitives away, and they have empty ships everywhere on the canal, all this I have personally seen with my own eyes. I fear that within a few days they will be able to bring away all the refugees.”
“They are taking away those patients infected with the black spots?” Ferry frowned. “Are you sure you haven’t misread the situation?”
Previously he had already received the message that a fleet was transporting the refugees of the Eastern Region away, but something like this was quite normal. Those nobles always love it when the territory of another noble is stricken by natural disaster, this time it will allow them to plunder some workers for a very low price. Anyway, now that the demonic disease is running amuck those idiots will naturally be punished by God. However, now… after they know that the plague has infected the people, how can they still shelter the refugees?
“No, they are in possession of a cure for the demonic disease! After those mercenaries gave the patients a bag with some strange water to drink, the dark spots on their body quickly disappeared. Furthermore, they also claimed that they are coming from the Western Region, and as long as the refugees are willing to come along with the fleet, they would receive food, shelter, and remuneration for the work they have done.” Needle’s eyes paused on Ferry’s, “But the most astonishingly is that these people are working together with a witch!”
“What did you just say?”
“What I said is absolutely correct, Your Reverence!” Needle shouted, “I mixed in with the ranks of the fugitives and embarked on a ship. In the beginning, I hadn’t seen anything, but then somebody jumped from the ship, and the mercenaries on shore began the pursue him. Before long I noticed that there was a shadow circling in the sky, but it wasn’t a bird, it was a witch flying in the air. I was so scared that I did not dare to move. I waited until the ship had sailed several kilometers and I couldn’t detect a trace of the witch, before I took the next opportunity and dived into the water to escape. I almost needed a day to come back. “Needle rubbed his hands,” Your Reverence, do you believe now that this information is worth a bottle of Holy Elixir in exchange?
“Wait a minute, you said that they have a way to cure the demonic plague and that you also have drunk it, in other words, does that mean you were previously sick?” Ferry asked.
“Uh… That’s right, but didn’t you say, as long as I have valuable information to offer, I can…” Needle grinned awkwardly, revealing a mouth of uneven yellow teeth.
So that’s the reason, he doesn’t want to use it but instead wants to take this bottle of Holy Elixir to the black market to sell it, after pondering for a moment Ferry asked again, “How many people does the other side have? Are you sure they were mercenaries from a caravan? “
“They assuredly were , they have no armor, no horses, and their weapons were a kind of wooden spear. As for their numbers…” Needle went with his hand through his hair, “Not more than a hundred people, at most!”
“To whom did belonged the ships?”
“This… I cannot tell, most of the ships haven’t hung any flag, and even in case they had hung one up, I wouldn’t be able to recognize them. But the mercenaries personally said that the fleet was leaving for the Western Region… ah… yes, he also mentioned that the recruitment was for the Lord of Border Town.” Needle racked his brain to recall his words, “he was currently in the process of reclaiming the land, and thus the Lord needs a large workforce. That’s all I can remember.”
“Well, this was indeed a crucial news you had to offer,” the priest took a deep breath and pulled a bottle of blue liquid from his pocket and threw it towards Needle, “Take it with you, it is yours.”
“Th-thank you, Your Reverence!” Flustered the latter caught the bottle, but suddenly his whole body began to tremble, and his eyes became huge. Only seeing a slender dagger sticking out of his neck, sending out a faint coldness, with the old and senile room manager suddenly standing behind him.